The Walking Wizards
by AKxx
Summary: The worlds have fallen to deadly virus that brings corpses back to life. Draco Malfoy leads a band of survivors to safety, but along the way he encounters a muggle who flips his world upside-down...
1. Chapter 1

The Walking Wizards Chapter 1

* * *

Draco Malfoy climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep. Blaise was asleep behind the wheel. Draco would let his friend rest for a few more minutes. They didn't need to return to camp for another hour or so, and they had barely slept for the past two days.

Reclining in his seat, Draco turned to face the Jeep on his right. Crabbe was snoring loudly in the driver seat; Theo stood on the passenger seat, leaning against the roof bar, on guard; Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint appeared to bicker in the Jeep on the left. Draco allowed himself to close his eyes, his mind riddled with thoughts of the world. The world that had ended. The barren world, plagued with the dead.

It had been six years since the world had ended, muggle and wizarding alike. Nobody knew for certain how it came about, but it happened all the same. It started in America apparently, but spread quicker than Fiendfyre. It consumed the entire world in months. Nothing was left untouched.

Draco had been at Hogwarts when the world ended, much like the rest of the students. They had thought they were safe behind the wards of Hogwarts, and with magic at their fingertips. But no one had anticipated the undead's resistance magic. They waltzed through wards as though they weren't there at all—they were attracted to the vibrations of magic in the air. The wards are what lured them.

Students and Professors of Hogwarts scattered, everyone flooing or apparating home to check on their families. Some returned with their sisters or brothers, sometimes muggle parents. Others returned entirely broken, blood and tears covering them. But most … most never came back.

Over the year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape-the only remaining Professor-became leaders of sorts. They would ration the food, assign duties to the students and operate the castle. At first they received much resistance from the incessantly infuriating Hermione Granger, backed by her ginger Weaselette. But after assigning her the task of finding out what the fuck happened to the world, they were eventually left alone. So Granger worked in the library and Dumbledore's private collection with Astoria Greengrass. Searching for answers. Searching for anything that could help them.

Draco knew they needed her, as much as it pained him to admit it. The know-it-all had become valuable to the group of survivors, as well as his plans for the future. They needed as much magical blood as possible to rebuild society, even if it was tainted. But impurity didn't matter as much to him anymore. Not when only three pure-blooded females remained in the world, and handful of pure-blooded men. The world was in need of rebuilding and they needed all magical blood they could get to do it.

Many stayed at Hogwarts. It lasted about a year. Eventually the numbers at Hogwarts dwindled and only thirty or so remained. The undead would wander onto the grounds gradually, more and more as the weeks went on. Feeding on their people. It was decided that Hogwarts was no longer safe. Soon after, Draco and the remaining survivors floo'd to the Malfoy Manor. They remained safe there for another year before the grounds were overrun by the undead. Attempting to regain control of the Manor, they realised that magic had very little effect on the undead. The Avada and stunning spells did nothing, not a damn thing. Even cloaking spells had no effect as the undead could still _smell_ them. They learned a lot during that battle, losing a dozen or so in the process.

But during the course of the year at the Manor, Astoria and Granger had learned of an ancient Medallion that was believed to control the dead. The literature on the – perhaps mythical – Medallion was limited and vague. It was apparent that they would need to venture out into the world to locate it. So when the Manor fell to the walking dead, that is what Draco decided. They would have to journey around the land in search of the Medallion, following up on leads whenever they were lucky enough to discover them. Searching for the Medallion, setting up camp whenever they could. But not for long. Never for a long period of time. For if they stayed in one place too long, the dead would come. They always found them.

Draco and his group of survivors had come across several muggles over the years. Eventually they started to make their presence known to them, interrogating them for a while. If they deemed the muggles to be trustworthy enough, they would bring them back to the camp, increasing their numbers. They needed numbers. They needed the numbers for the future. For when they found the Medallion and they had to begin repopulation. But the group did not know of those plans. Not yet. Only the Vipers were aware of these plans, knowing that a muggle and magical person would be paired off. Ensuring the offspring would be magical, repopulating the earth with powerful beings. Wizards and witches ready to reclaim the world. Lead by Draco Malfoy.

Draco sighed audibly as he opened his steely grey eyes. His eyes were always emotionless, his expression stony. Always. He had always been a cold boy, but now, after the world had fallen and his parents were gone, he was a cold man. Entirely. Detached. He felt no fear anymore. Not of the undead, not of anything. He only felt determination. He was determined to rebuild the world. The world that would thrive under his control. The New World. It would be his.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair as he glanced around at his fellow 'Vipers'. That's what the group of survivors called them. The Vipers.

The Vipers were returning to camp from a mission. Following up on a lead for that fucking Medallion. Unsuccessful, of course. It always was. But perhaps not entirely unsuccessful. For they were able to find an ancient book, comprised entirely of ancient ruins. The mudblood would be able to decipher it. Perhaps it would enlighten them to the location of the Medallion. Hopefully.

Draco slammed his hand on the car horn, waking Crabbe and Blaise with a jolt. Theo laughed as Crabbe smacked his head on the steering wheel as he jolted awake.

"Should wear your seatbelt, mate." Theo laughed, seating himself in the passenger seat.

Grumbling, Crabbe glared at Theo, rubbing his head soothingly.

"Let's move," Draco yelled, supressing a yawn as the three Jeeps roared to life.

He readjusted the strap of the holster on his thigh, aligning the knives that it held. He fidgeted with the gun in the holster, knowing he was low on ammo. But they all were. Hence the premature return to camp. The destination the research team sent them to had been overrun by the walkers. The undead. It had made a dent in their ammunition supply, but they were successful nonetheless. All six of the Vipers walking away without so much as a scratch. Years of training did that to you though. And that's what they had done following their departure from the Manor.

They had trained and practiced, hunting walkers frequently. Ensuring they were at their strongest, always. They could not afford to make any mistakes. Lest they share the same fate as Severus, a man short of a limb. Or worse, they could die. Neither of which they wanted. So they trained constantly, maintaining excellent stamina, flexibility, skill and strength. Always.

* * *

The camp was vibrant, muggles and magical folk bustling around tending to their chores and duties. The group of survivors currently sat at around fifty people or so, each with their own assignment and responsibility. Most of the muggle women were assigned to home-making duties, mainly laundry, cleaning and cooking. But it was their preference. Staying within the camp boundaries offered them a sense of security and protection. It was one of the only options that allowed them to stay within the camp. The others were ones of skill or exclusive; medical, research and inventory. The medical team consisted of one healer and one nurse. The nurse was a muggle man, and the healer a witch. One of them always had to remain on base ensuring constant accessibility to treatment. Inventory was essentially all of the weaponry and food supplies that was guarded at all times. It was guarded by a wizard or witch only, ensuring maximum protection, and the team consisted of three to four people. The research team was made up of three people; Hermione Granger, Astoria Greengrass and Severus Snape.

Severus Snape once was a 'Viper' but after a bite to the arm from one of the undead, he was no longer able to continue in that field. Fortunately the fellow Vipers amputated his arm immediately, preventing the infection from contaminating him, allowing him to live. The group leader, Draco Malfoy, reassigned the now disabled Severus to the research department, knowing that he would contribute greatly.

Muggle men and women joined magical folk on the 'hunts'. The hunts were the least dangerous of the three duties that expanded outside of the camp. Hunts were essentially pursuits and the tracking of animals in the woodlands. They would search for animals that could be used, or eaten. Horses, boars, cattle, chickens. Whatever they could find really. And thanks to the 'Hunters' – a team of seven –, the camp was stocked with a few cows and chickens, providing fresh milk and eggs to the group daily.

The largest faction was the 'Runners', a group of ten or so people. The Runners' main duty was find supplies. Fuel, cars, ammunition, weaponry, water, food. Anything that was considered to be a necessity. They had priorities, but aimed to acquire and scavenge as much as they could on one run. Therefore the team would be gone for days at a time, sometimes a week. But when they returned, the camp would welcome them back warmly. For they always returned with supplies. Never empty handed.

The Vipers … now they faced the most danger. And it was certainly the most exclusive of the teams, comprised of the founders and leaders of the group. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint and Vincent Crabbe. As much as several of the Runners had tried, applications to join the elite team were constantly denied. Much to Ginny Weasley's annoyance. She was undoubtedly the top Runner, surviving countless missions and saving her team from catastrophic situations time and time again. But always, her application was rejected. It infuriated her, but Draco would refuse her requests for meetings all the same. He was a busy man and chose to spend his very limited spare time entertaining the grateful women on camp.

Many muggle women and witches threw themselves at the Vipers, knowing that without them, they would probably be dead. Knowing that these men risked their lives every day in pursuit of something that would save them. But that's all they knew. It was something that could save them. Only the research team and the Vipers were aware of the Medallion. Countless women on camp, however, showed their gratitude in licentious ways. Draco Malfoy being the main receptor, of course, due his high rank as the leader. He did not complain. It was a welcome reprieve from the missions he and the rest of the Vipers went on every week. A welcome reprieve from the constant research of the Medallion. Constant strategizing. He allowed himself some peace as the women rode him, or blew him. Whichever he was in the mood for. But he never participated. He watched as they did everything, kicking them out almost as soon as he'd cum. Forgetting their names, but that didn't matter to him. Their names didn't matter. All that mattered was the mission. Finding the Medallion. Rebuilding society. Leading the New World. It's all that mattered.

"Granger," Blaise walked into the large tent that housed books, stationary, a desk, and the bushy haired mudblood.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Found this," Blaise spoke, tossing the large ancient book at her, his eyes scanning the sleeping Astoria under the desk. It seemed he wasn't the only one that tried to catch some sleep at work.

Hermione sighed, walking over to the desk that Astoria slept under. "No Medallion then?" Hermione didn't sound disappointed, probably because none of them expected to find the Medallion on such a weak lead.

"Obviously not," Draco's darkened eyes were on the ancient book that Hermione slammed onto the desk.

"Well, I have another lead," Hermione said, waving her hand toward the pile of paper on the floor.

Draco frowned, leaning down to snatch the crumpled paper on the top of the pile.

"It's not far from here," Blaise said.

Draco grunted in response before folding the paper, placing it in the pocket of his tight, black cargo pants. He turned and looked outside, observing the pink sky.

"It's almost nightfall," Draco spoke. "We will go in the morning."

"Sunrise?" Blaise asked, grateful to have the whole night to sleep. And perhaps entertain a woman or two.

"Yes," Draco said.

Hermione glared at the back of their heads as the two Vipers departed the tent without so much as a thanks. They treated her like an accessory to the tent, only speaking to her when Astoria and Snape were unable to. She rolled her eyes and dug into her work.

* * *

Octavia groaned as she shifted her body. Slumber slipped away from her.

The ground was stony and harsh against her skin, her bones aching from sleeping on it for a few hours. That's all the sleep she would get, she knew. No more than four hours. She was lucky if she slept at all. The fear would prevent her usually. But she managed this time, climbing up to the top of a watch tower, surrounded by rubble. The tower remained standing, however, providing Octavia with a little security during the cold dark night. The nights. They were the worst in Octavia's books. But that was hardly surprising.

Nights in a world like this would frighten anyone. Especially if they were alone, like her. Alone in a world of the undead, nobody to speak to. Nobody to watch over her. Nobody to look at. Only dead. All around her. The dead. Either the walkers, or silence. Only the sounds of her breaths, the noise of her brown combat boots hitting the ground as she travelled the land. Searching for food and shelter. Alone. Always alone.

She wasn't sure anybody else was alive anymore. A year she walked around Scotland, and had saw no one. Not a damn living soul.

Groaning, Octavia sat up and stretched, her arms high in the air, her back arching. Walking over to the window, she scowled as she looked out. It was dawn, which was good for her; it allowed her to see what was coming. A herd. About a hundred, maybe two. She had to keep moving. They were a few miles away, she noticed. Octavia estimated they were about an hour or two behind her. She had time. She had to move.

Grabbing her white maxi dress, Octavia she shimmied into it. The dress allowed her flexibility, not making a sound as she ran. There was no rubbing of material, like jeans, as she ran. She had cut two thigh-high splits up the dress, at the front of her legs. It ensured that she could run without making much noise. Her ability to remain quiet was the only reason she had survived this long. Six years.

The past year she spent alone. Octavia hadn't seen a single person in over twelve months. Not one. She was entirely alone for a whole year. She did her best to keep track of time, tallying days in a notebook she had in her leather backpack. Her favourite backpack-Prada. She stole it from a store. She wanted it so badly when she was at school, jealous of the other girls that sported it. But it didn't matter anymore. Not now that the world was gone. Yet she stole it all the same. It was the only sliver of fun in a desolate world.

Octavia sighed as she grabbed her small backpack, swinging it over her shoulder. Walking toward the exit, she willed the tears to stay away. The herd was an hour or two behind her, but she knew if she didn't find a place to hide soon they would catch up to her. She couldn't stay in the watch tower, as the front door was gone. Several would wander up the staircase and she wouldn't have the strength to fight them. She hadn't eaten in days, and she was so thirsty. Down to her last few drops of water. But she had to ration it. In case she had to climb a tree and wait for the herd to pass. Sometimes she would be stuck up there longer than anticipated. Days. She needed to keep her water in case that happened again.

Octavia exited the watch tower, her steps slow and tired. She knew she should walk much faster but she just didn't have the energy. No food, practically no water. So she walked along the gravelly road in the opposite direction of the walkers. Slowly. Much too slowly. Her lethargy evident in her heavy steps. Almost stumbling at times. But she had to keep going. Or they would catch her.

She couldn't fight them. There were too many. But even at that, she had no ammo left. Only one knife. She knew she couldn't use it to kill herself if they caught up to her. She didn't have the strength in her. She was weak. Mentally, emotionally and physically. So if they caught up to her, she would become one of them. After she had been torn apart. Eaten alive. She would become one of the walkers.

A part of the plague on this earth.


	2. Chapter 2

The Walking Wizards Chapter 2

* * *

Octavia staggered down the country road, her boots scuffing against the gravel. She had been walking for hours since awaking to the herd in the distance. But she knew they were gaining on her. They hadn't seen or smelt her yet, so their pace was slow. But hers was slower. It wouldn't be long before they caught up to her. Maybe about an hour, at best. Perhaps she should just stop; Sit down in the middle of the road and wait for them. It would only be about forty minutes that way, and she could sleep as they washed over her. Devouring her. It might be quick. Maybe one would tear out her throat before she felt anything.

It would be easier that way. To stop. To let them take her. Make her like them.

Octavia whimpered as she stumbled and hit the ground. Her bag fell onto the road, rolling away from her a little. She groaned as she tried to stand up, pulling on the energy she didn't have. She collapsed again.

Octavia lied on the ground. Blinking as she stared at her bag a metre or so away from her. Her pretty Prada bag. Soon to be trampled on by the undead. The walkers. Ruining her pretty things. Ruining her life. She frowned. She felt the small stones of the road digging into her cheek. Her arm hurt. She must have hurt it when she fell. There was a little blood on it. She didn't mind. It was a consequence of the world she lived in. Scrapes and bruises. It came with the territory these days. She was used to it.

And then she heard something. Pulling her out of her thoughts. With tears in her eyes she heaved herself up from the ground, moaning from the sharp pains shooting through her arm. She panted lightly as she grabbed her bag, swinging it around her shoulders. She could feel the blood on her cheek, her arm throbbing in pain. But she didn't care. All she could focus on was the noise. It drew closer.

Oh no, she thought, I'm so dead.

The walkers were coming.

* * *

Draco leaned against the side of the Jeep drinking water. He handed the half-empty bottle to Blaise that leaned next to him once he felt sufficiently hydrated.

Draco was in a foul mood. The latest mission Granger had sent them on proved to be futile, finding absolutely nothing to do with the Medallion. Nothing. So they spent a few hours driving around the Scottish mid-lands, investigating barns and service stations they came upon. Making as much use of their day out of camp as possible. Draco refused to waste any time these days, knowing that if they found some resources he could feel satisfied that the mission wasn't a complete failure.

"Time's up," Draco barked.

Crabbe made a show grumbling under his breath as he hauled himself into the Jeep, taking the passenger seat. Theo jumped into the driver seat beside him, scowling at the prospect of driving. He would much rather nap in the passenger seat.

Marcus and Adrien packed up their game of exploding snap, before climbing into their own Jeep as Blaise and Draco mirrored their actions.

The three Jeeps rang to life, falling into line. Blaise and Draco first, Theo and Crabbe second, Adrian and Marcus last. Always their formation. In representation of their ranks.

* * *

Octavia gaped, her hazel eyes as wide as saucers as she identified the noise. Three large Jeeps, roofless, down the road, headed straight for her. She rubbed her eyes before staring at the Jeeps again. Surprised that they were still there. She was sure she had imagined them. Hallucinating. Like people did when then they were starving, exhausted and dehydrated. It had happened once or twice before. Hallucinations. She was no stranger to them. It was always people she hallucinated. Probably because she was so lonely. So desperate to not be the only person left in the world. To not be alone.

But the Jeeps were still there. Coming toward her. It must be a hallucination. There was no one left in the world. No one. She hadn't seen a single soul in over a year. It must not be real. Her mind was playing tricks on her again. It had to be.

* * *

Blaise stopped the Jeep, his suspicious eyes on the petite figure standing in the road. He watched as she walked toward them slowly, cautiously. Her eyes wary, her movements unsteady. Blonde curly hair tied into a messy bun at the top of her head, loose tendrils framing her pretty face. A muggle. Definitely a muggle. A pretty one, even though her cheek was scraped, bruises on her arm, patches of dirt covering her body. She looked confused.

Blaise turned to Draco, waiting on his order. The other Jeeps stopped at either side of them, flanking them, before their engines turned off. Draco didn't speak. He climbed out of the car, Blaise following suit. But Blaise found this to be rather odd. Draco never approached strays that they found. He merely waited in the car like the others, as Blaise interrogated and assessed the strays.

* * *

Octavia blinked as two men walked toward her. A tanned man, black hair and dark eyes. Handsome. But stern and definitely unapproachable. However he seemed like the tooth-fairy next to the blonde one. The blonde man … now that was a scary man. He was tall and built, much like his companion. His muscles rippled through his black t-shirt, a tattoo on his muscular arm. A snake? Odd. His eyes … cold and grey, like molten silver. His blonde hair brushed against his brows, adding intensity to his already fierce stare. And his walk. The way he approached her. Predatory. She was definitely scared.

She had longed to see people for so long. But she never thought about what kind of people she'd like to see. For not everyone was friendly in this world. She had heard stories about bad groups of men. The things they did to women. Fear clenched her beating heart, her blood turning cold. She stood rooted to the spot.

They stopped a couple of metres away from her, their cold stares observing her.

Terror. She felt terror.

"I'm Blaise," the tanned one spoke. Yes, he introduced himself, but his tone was not friendly. It was cool and stern.

"Octavia," she whispered, her voice refusing to be more than a pathetic, hoarse noise.

"Why are you out here?" Blaise asked.

She shrugged in response. Why was she out here? Running from the dead. But that seemed like an obvious answer. Surviving? But wasn't everyone?

"There's a herd coming," Octavia whispered, waving her hand to indicate the walkers were behind her.

"How far?" Blaise asked, motioning to the Jeep on the left to verify her claim.

"Like an hour," she shrugged. "Maybe less. I don't really know."

Octavia flinched as the Jeep on the left roared to life, speeding off toward the direction of the herd. She watched it go before Blaise cleared his throat, regaining her foggy attention. She met Blaise's eyes, but noticed the blonde one step closer to her slightly. She tensed.

"Are you alone?" Blaise asked, his eyes flickering to the blonde man approaching her.

"Yes," she replied, trying to make her voice strong but failing miserably.

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Blaise asked, his eyes flickering between Draco and her.

"Yes," she nodded, eyeing the blonde man warily.

"Throw them on the ground." Blaise ordered calmly.

The Jeep that had driven away, caught her attention. She turned as she heard it approach, realising that it was reversing back toward them. She watched as it parked in its previous spot, the driver nodding once to Blaise and the blonde one. Again, Blaise cleared his throat, regaining her attention.

* * *

"Throw them on the ground," Blaise repeated tersely.

The timid muggle looked between him and Draco several times, assessing her situation. He knew she felt fear, but she realised there was not much she could do. Not when she was so weak, and up against six Vipers. She was evidently unnerved by Draco's movements though. Slow and predatory.

Usually Blaise handled these situations on his own, some of the others watching intently, but Draco would always ignore it. He had no interest in newcomers whatsoever. Yet he was staring at the muggle girl, approaching her slowly.

Sighing, the muggle girl shifted the thigh split in her long white dress, unclasping a holster from her leg. She tossed it to the ground before her, landing just before Draco's boots. A gun and a knife.

"Is that all you have on you?" Blaise asked his routine questions.

She bit her lip, her eyes on Draco. Fear shining in her hazel orbs.

"No," she whispered.

"Throw _all_ of your weapons on the ground." Blaise ordered.

She pouted slightly as bent down, fishing a Swiss-Army knife from her boot. She straightened her back, exertion evident in her eyes, tossing the compact device at Draco's feet.

"That's all," she sighed, her eyes on her weapons.

Draco stepped toward her, over the weapons, as Blaise spoke.

"We must check you to be sure."

The girl frowned as Draco dropped to his knee before her, his fingers slipping into her boots, checking for knives. Satisfied, he ran his hands up her leg, slower than Blaise would deem appropriate, up to the tip of her thigh. The girl's jaw clenched as Draco neared her private area, but relaxed visibly as he removed his hands. He repeated the same action on her other leg before standing.

The muggle looked up at Draco, trepidation glistening in her doe-eyes, but Draco's eyes did not meet hers. He kept his eyes on his hands, moving with them as ran them up and down her torso, skimming over her breasts quickly. They had to check that area to be sure, but it always made the women very uncomfortable. This girl was no different, trembling visibly as his hands neared and touched her mounds. Draco snaked his hands around to her back, rubbing them swiftly around the area, trailing down and skimming over her buttocks before pulling away. He turned and walked over to Theo's Jeep, picking up the weapons on the way and tossing them into the back of the Jeep. He turned and leaned against the bumper and facing the scared girl.

"We had to be sure. You understand?" Blaise spoke, no compassion in voice.

She nodded.

"I'm going to ask you some questions now," Blaise advised, leaning against the bumper of his Jeep.

"Ok," she whispered, eyes tired and wary.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Blaise asked the fatigued muggle girl.

She tilted her head as she seemed to count. This almost made him laugh. Virtually everyone responded instantly with variations of the same answer. _'Too many to count'_. But this muggle appeared to actually be counting. Her nose was scrunched in concentration, her fingers moving slightly. Not noticeably counting on her fingers, but using them discreetly to assist her. Blaise could have sworn he saw Draco smirk in his peripheral vision. Or was it a smile? Of course not. Draco was stoic as ever, standing near the muggle girl, leaning against the bumper of Theo's Jeep, his cold eyes assessing her. No. He must have imagined it.

"I think about twenty, maybe," the girl spoke in a hoarse voice. "It could be more, though. I don't know."

"Is that all?" Theo asked incredulously from the Jeep, leaning over the steering wheel.

The muggle girl nodded, her eyes flickering between the six men. Blaise knew they must appear very intimidating to her. All stony faced, voices clipped, all clad in black tight cargo pants, black tight t-shirts, some in leather jackets. Guns and knives attached to their thighs by holsters and straps. All looking ready for battle. Their threatening appearances were evident in her apprehensive eyes.

"How many people have you killed?" Draco asked, his voice cold.

Blaise almost flinched from shock. Draco never asked the questions. He never expressed interest in the newcomers. Unless they were sucking him off at some point. But at first, he never paid them any mind. Even back at camp, he didn't spare a glance at them. Only watching them when they threw themselves at him. But when they came across potential newcomers, he allowed Blaise to manage it, knowing he would make the appropriate assessments. But never participated. Usually he sat in the Jeep and waited, rather impatiently. But here he was, leaning against Theo's Jeep, asking questions.

"One," the muggle whispered, tears shining in her eyes. Obviously not wishing to remember the act.

"Why?" Blaise asked, but he did in fact notice that Draco had gone to ask the third question.

"He … uh," the girl spoke quietly. From sadness and exhaustion it seemed. "He got bit. Didn't want to … turn. No one else was with us … I had to."

The girl appeared to be swaying on her feet slightly. Very tired. Very exhausted. Blaise knew she would faint soon. They had to hurry this up. The herd was approaching and they only had a couple more questions for her.

"Who was he to you?" Blaise asked, Draco tensing in his peripherals. Very peculiar.

"A … friend."

"You are lying," Blaise clipped, his dark eyes scanning her tired face.

"A lover," she answered again, this time honestly. Her voice growing weaker with each answer, her body becoming heavier. Her legs had almost buckled out from beneath her already. But she had to stay awake. She didn't know these men. She had to stay awake.

"How did he get bitten?" Blaise asked again, Draco's body still tense. Very strange.

"It was years ago," she sighed, shaking her head slightly. Obviously struggling with the memory. Apparently confused somewhat. "We were with a group … walkers came … we escaped but he got bit … I think when the walkers attacked … I'm not sure."

"What happened to the group?" Blaise asked again, his tone bored.

"Dead, I think," the girl shrugged. "Never saw any of them again."

"You have been alone since?" Blaise asked.

"No," she shook her head with a slight frown. "I met another group a few months after. I think it was a few months. I don't know."

"What happened to that group?"

"We got overrun in the middle of the night," she said wearily, her eyes drooping slightly. "I've been alone since then."

"How long ago was that?"

"Over a year ago, I think," the girl sighed, stumbling a little.

Blaise frowned at her little stumble. She was evidently exhausted. Hungry and dehydrated. But that's not what made him frown. Draco stepped forward. As though to catch her. But composed himself quickly.

"You have been alone for a year?" Blaise asked, keeping his eyes on the unsteady girl.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You have not seen others?"

"No," she whispered. "I thought everyone was dead."

"I see," Blaise clipped, his dark eyes on the muggle.

And then it happened. The girl's legs gave out beneath her, crumbling to the harsh ground. But Draco … he stepped forward briskly, catching her and slipping his arms beneath her body. He held her bridal-style, carrying her to the Jeep, before placing her in the backseat as she slept.

Blaise and Theo shared a quizzical look before turning their gazes back to Draco who was climbing into the passenger seat.

"Let's move," he shouted, his arm hanging over the window-less door, smacking his palm against the car door.

Blaise sighed as he walked toward the car, jumping in the driver's seat as the other Jeeps roared to life.

"What the hell was that?" Blaise asked, starting their Jeep up.

"What was what?" Draco drawled, his steely grey eyes on the road before them as they drove in formation.

"The girl," Blaise said, his eyes checking her sleeping form through the rear-view mirror.

"The muggle?" Draco drawled. "What about her?"

"You caught her."

"So?" Draco raised his eyebrow, turning his cool gaze to his tanned comrade.

Blaise shook his head slightly before meeting Draco's cold stare.

"Nothing," he sighed, turning his eyes back to the road.

Draco didn't respond, reclining back in his chair, placing his boot against the dashboard. They drove in silence the rest of the way back to camp. The muggle unconscious the entire journey, sprawled out in the back seat. Blaise did notice, however, that Draco decided to inspect her backpack. Not uncommon when they picked up a stray, but it was uncommon for Draco to participate in the task. Especially strange that he seemed to pay extra attention to a locket necklace in the bag, as well as a photograph of the muggle and handsome black man. The way they were holding one another … lovers. Definitely. Ant their appearances suggested that the photograph was taken after the world fell to the dead. Perhaps the lover she killed? There wasn't much else in the bag. A little water and a notebook that was filled with tallies. Blaise assumed it was her way of keeping track of the days. Some rope in the bag, and a tarp. That's all. But Draco rummaged through the bag for a while, observing the photograph and the locket at intervals.

Grunting, Draco zipped up the bag and threw it down, turning his gaze back to long road before him.

But Blaise noticed. He noticed that Draco would occasionally look into the rear-view mirror, glancing at the muggle girl. It was only a glance, brief and curt.

But Blaise noticed.

* * *

Draco hauled the unconscious muggle over his shoulder as they arrived back at camp. He carried her limp body toward the medical tent, Blaise by his side, as the others unpacked the Jeeps.

He ignored the frequent questioning glances his comrade aimed at him, opting to keep his eyes fixed on the infirmary tent at the opposite end of the camp. He had been enduring Blaise's curious glances for the entire duration of the journey back to camp, and it seemed that he would not be allowed a reprieve any time soon. But he could hardly blame his friend, really. His behaviour was rather odd and out of character. It even surprised him, but he would never show that. He would compose himself, not allowing his confusion to grace his features. No. That would not do.

But he was confused. He did not understand why he had felt the need to approach the muggle. He had never been interested in strays before. Never. Even the occupants at camp, he never looked twice at. Only entertaining them when they offered him a sexual favour. But when they saw her … her weak, petite figure. Her pretty, scraped face. Her wide fear-filled doe-eyes. Something stirred inside of him. He did not know what. It was not familiar to him. But it was something … unusual. It compelled him to approach her. It compelled him to be near her. A strange feeling. Not unpleasant. Well, not entirely unpleasant. When she spoke of a lover … something else happened. A …pang? Something … he wasn't sure. But it was mixed with anger.

Which was utterly ludicrous, right? He didn't know the girl, and she was a muggle. He didn't know anything about her, she had only spoken a few words or so. But he felt that he knew her. He felt … a sense of something. Ownership? He wasn't sure.

Blaise looked at him again. Infuriating. No doubt he would be asking questions soon. But Draco did not have the answers. He just … didn't know.

He barged through the entrance of the medical tent, storming over to the bed on the far right, providing the muggle with the least amount of disruption and a little privacy. He wasn't sure why. It perplexed him that her privacy and rest entered his mind. Baffling. He placed her on the firm bed, not sparing a second glance at her before walking to lean against the wall. Close to her … but not too close. As though he was waiting on a diagnostic, but not eagerly. A calculated distance.

Blaise followed, standing beside him. But remained silent. Good. It was in his friend's best interest to remain silent at this moment. Draco was feeling rather … unpredictable.

* * *

Hermione buzzed around the desk in the research tent, excitement radiating from her pores. She fussed over the ancient book, believed to have belonged to Merlin himself some millennia ago.

"The Vipers are back," Astoria advised, entering the tent.

Hermione glanced at the girl as she entered. "Where are they?"

"Taking some muggle to the infirmary tent," Astoria sighed as she strolled over to the desk. "Draco and Blaise, at least. The others are at the Vehicle Zone."

"Thanks," Hermione sighed, lifting the heavy book and making her way to the infirmary.

Astoria watching her go. But Hermione did not notice this. She never noticed when the girl watched her.

Her only focus in that moment was to find Malfoy and tell him of what they had discovered.

* * *

"Malfoy," Hermione called, entering the medic tent.

The bed at the far right was occupied, but Hermione only noticed the bruised and dirty legs of the newcomer as the healer and nurse tended to her, blocking her from Hermione's view. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing Malfoy and Zabini up the back, near the newcomer, entirely silent, a tension surrounding them.

Malfoy's eyes flickered to her as she approached them, cradling the heavy book in her arms.

"I found something," Hermione grunted as she hauled the book onto the neighbouring vacant bed.

Malfoy and Zabini walked briskly to her, flanking her as she flipped the book open to a marked page.

"That," Hermione clipped, pointing at the page.

The page that featured a sketch of a black jagged stone, surrounded by ancient ruins.

"The resurrection stone," Zabini identified the image quickly, his eyes assessing the page.

Hermione nodded vigorously in approval, her eyes glistening with excitement.

"It doesn't have anything to do with the medallion," Hermione explained quickly. "Not that I have discovered, yet. But here," Hermione pointed to a circled set of ruins, "it talks about the uses of the stone to create an army."

"An army?" Draco asked interestedly, his eyes fixed on the set of ruins.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I think Merlin was trying to figure out a way to use the stone to his favour. Making his army stronger and immortal. So if they died –"

"– they would come back to life." Draco interrupted, his lips set into a thin line.

"Yes." Hermione sighed.

"So this might lead us to _how_ the undead came about and destroyed the world," Blaise drawled. "But how does it help us find the Medallion?"

"It doesn't," Hermione shrugged. "Not yet at least. But maybe if we continue to look into the Resurrection Stone, we might be able to reverse the damage."

"Assuming the Stone was used at all," Draco drawled, although he knew that it was likely the Stone was the very cause to the prevalent epidemic.

"General Malfoy," the healer called. "The patient has awoken."

* * *

Octavia furrowed her brow as that voice grated her ears. Her sister. Always talking when she slept, not caring if she woke her. Always babbling on. Interrupting her sleep, as always.

But … not always. Her sister wasn't alive. But, then how could she hear her? Talking about some stone, or something.

Octavia fought the heaviness of her eyelids, forcing them open. Light. So much light, it blinded her for a moment or so. Blinking, Octavia's hazel eyes adjusted to the brightness. Groaning, she raised her hand and rubbed her eyes, her entire body aching. But that didn't matter. The pain had to be fought through in this world. There was no room for belly-aching. You just had to push the pain aside and keep going.

But go where? There was people around her. She wasn't alone. A man and a woman she didn't recognise, standing at her side, watching her warily.

The woman spoke … something about a general and a patient. Octavia pushed herself up to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the narrow bed. A hospital bed … but not _in_ a hospital. In a tent.

I must be a camp. With people.

She almost smiled at the thought. People. But she was too weak to smile. Especially since she used the remnants of her energy to resist the male that tried to guide her back down, to lay on the bed. A nurse or a doctor, she assumed, given the stethoscope around his neck.

The woman moved away as the blonde man approached her. She recognised him. Ah. She remembered now. He was still just as terrifying. Great. The tan man followed him. They were walking toward her, away from a bushy haired girl.

A girl that stared at her with wide, watery eyes and her mouth agape.

"Hermione," Octavia breathed, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes.

The approaching men stopped immediately, their eyes flickering between Hermione and Octavia. Shock flashing on their faces briefly, before their expressions returned to stone.

"HERMIONE!" Octavia cried, stumbling off the bed as the bushy haired girl ran toward her desperately.

Both of them sobbed wretchedly as they crashed into each other, wrapping their arms around one another tightly. The sobbed and cried, burying their faces into the nooks of the other's neck, muttering broken words between harsh breaths. Octavia's legs buckled and she fell to the floor, but Hermione joined her, her hold on her never loosening. Gripping onto one another tightly, securely. Afraid to let go.

"I … thought … you … died," Hermione managed to spit between violent sobs, her words echoing through the room.

The occupants of the room watched the two girls interestedly, the healer and nurse with small smiles. The healer was crying at the emotional scene, her hand on her heart.

Blaise stared at the girls sobbing on the floor, his eyebrow quirked. Draco's eyes and face remained stony and cool. Showing nothing. But his gaze never left the muggle girl. Her body wracked with sobs as the banshee mudblood clutched onto her tightly.

Hermione's face scrunched up as she cried, pulling away from her sister slightly. Her hands cupped Octavia's face as their eyes locked, Octavia snivelling and whimpering.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, pained brown eyes scanning her sister's hazel orbs. "I looked for you."

Octavia snivelled and nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I looked for you," Hermione repeated with a sob, her hands cupping her face.

Octavia smiled sadly, tears streaking her bruised and blotchy face. Her eyes struggling to remain open, her body trembling with exertion.

"We must return her to the bed," the woman spoke sadly to Hermione. "You may stay."

Hermione nodded as she helped the woman lift Octavia from the floor, guiding her back to the narrow bed. Octavia cried silently as the woman tended to her wounds, fighting to keep her eyes open, struggling to stay awake. Sleep danced around her, teasing her, baiting her. But she would resist. Afraid to close her eyes. If she closed them … Hermione might not be there when she awoke again. What if it wasn't real? A hallucination? What if she was dying somewhere and her mind was playing tricks on her? She had to stay awake as long as possible. Just to bask in the pleasure of seeing her sister again. Her sister that was alive. Not dead.

Alive. Alive in the world of the undead. Standing beside her, holding her hand. Their eyes locked onto each other, for the first time in six years.

Hermione and Octavia Granger.

* * *

Draco watched as the muggle girl succumbed to sleep, her eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. Her hand clasping the mudblood's.

"Who is she?" Draco asked coolly, his eyes scanning the muggle's body.

"My sister," Hermione sobbed, clasping the muggle's hand in hers.

"Interesting," Blaise spoke, his tone contrasting greatly with his statement. He sounded incredibly bored. "Congratulations, Granger."

Hermione nodded, her lip trembling as her eyes stayed on the pretty face of her sister.

"I trust you will explain to her how things work here," Blaise drawled, inspecting his fingernails.

He was glad for the relationship between the two girls as he didn't have to spend time with the stray muggle when she awoke now. Granger would tend to the girl, informing her of the dynamics and functions of the group of survivors, alleviating him of a duty he found rather tedious. The newcomers always had too many questions, keeping his company longer than he would prefer. Preventing him from spending his free time with loose women around camp. But not tonight. Now, he had the night to himself. And women, of course.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded in response.

Blaise and Draco didn't speak, they merely turned and sauntered out of the medical tent, not turning back to spare the muggle or mudblood a glance. The Grangers. The Granger girls. Blaise frowned. He could hardly tolerate one Granger, let alone two. But he had an inkling that Draco did not share his sentiments. He had an inkling that this stray muggle would interest Draco … perhaps. Maybe just for a while. Perhaps he had a crush? People got crushes sometimes. It wasn't uncommon. And then when he was done with her, he would toss her to the side. Like he did all women.

Perhaps.

* * *

Octavia rubbed her arm, the ache still there, as she stared at the roaring fire before her. She had awoken again several hours ago, holding her sister for the majority of that time. Hermione then ordered her to eat, giving her a can of peaches. Octavia squealed at the can of fruit. Not because it was food, but because it was her favourite. Peaches and pickles. It was a toss-up.

Hermione of course knew that peaches were her sister's favourite. She searched for Malfoy, finding him with his fellow Viper Blaise in the tent used for strategizing. The duo were standing at the desk in the centre of the room, observing the large map of Britain, discussing the optimal routes to their next destitution. They would have to move soon.

Hermione had prepared to incessantly pester and plead with Malfoy for the can of peaches for her sister, expecting him to deny her request instantly. It was common knowledge around camp that the Vipers only gave when they _received_ , and even then it was unlikely. But Malfoy surprised her when he nodded one toward a stunned Blaise, indicating his approval. Blaise escorted Hermione to the inventory site – essentially a large truck or two stocked with supplies. Having the supplies – ammo, weaponry, food, water, etc – packed into trucks made it easier for the group if they were to fall under attack by the undead. It was smart and efficient.

Hermione took the can of peaches from a frowning Blaise before running off back to her sister. Her sister that she thought dead for six years. The sister that she would have bet against in a world like this. The sweet Octavia that always relied on others to help and save her. Surviving in the apocalypse for six years. Hermione was baffled, to be honest. But it wasn't the time to ask questions. For now, she would just be grateful that her sister sat beside her on the log facing the campfire.

Octavia rested her head on Hermione's shoulder, her hazel-eyes watching the flames dance before her. Logs surrounded the large campfire, residents of the camp seated on them, enjoying late night snacks and chatting enthusiastically. Most were merry and joyous, happy to be alive. But ahead of her, to the right, the Vipers sat talking amongst themselves quietly. 'The Vipers', she scoffed. Hermione had said that's what they were called. A stupid thing to call yourself.

Octavia didn't really like the men. Yes, they saved her from dying on the road that morning. But they were cold and frightening. They still were, actually. Not just to her it seemed. Everybody appeared to be intimidated by them. But occasionally a bold woman would approach one. They would sneak off into a tent in the distance. Three guesses what they were doing. Gross.

The Viper she disliked the most, however, was the blonde one. She didn't know his name. She thought him to be threatening, intimidating, rude and cold. His cold dead eyes frightened her, and she saw cruelty in them. She didn't like him at all. And she was certain he didn't like her. She saw him once or twice throughout the evening, and now he sat across from her. Sometimes she would catch him looking at her, and he wouldn't look away. He would just stare at her, unnerving her. His gaze was fierce, making her very uncomfortable. Just like when she met him. She was certain he didn't like her, probably thinking of ways to have her removed from the group. Or hating her from a distance. Whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable and amplified her dislike for him tenfold.

"Are you ok?" Hermione asked, holding her sister's hand in her lap.

"Yeah," Octavia smiled. "I'm happy to be with you."

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked, fussing over her sister.

"I'm ok," Octavia lied.

She was hungry, but she was afraid if she ate anymore food she would throw up. Her stomach had shrunk in size over the years, only able to eat so much at a time. But watching others eat around her did make her stomach grumble slightly, thankfully the noise was drowned out by the chatter around them.

"I can ask for more food, if you're hungry," Hermione persisted.

"I'm ok," Octavia smiled. "So you have to ask for food then?"

Octavia had not learned much about how this group operated, but it would do her good to adapt quickly. Groups always had their own way of doing things, expecting everybody to function accordingly. She didn't want to mess up so soon, so she was eager to learn about the structure and rules.

"If you want extra," Hermione nodded. "We have rations though."

"What are the rations?"

"Everyone meets here in the morning, eggs and milk already prepared by the home-makers," Hermione explained. "The home-makers are just a group of muggles that do the cooking and laundry. They tend to the animals too."

"What else?"

"Then lunch, that's pretty much just a can of food from the inventory site. Usually two guards of the trucks will distribute the cans throughout the camp, ensuring everyone is fed." Hermione explained. "Dinner, we meet here again. Sometimes we'll have meat, depending on what the Hunters find. Other times we'll have meals prepared form the food supplies. If you want anything else, you have to ask the Vipers. Usually trading with them."

"Trading what?" Octavia furrowed her brows. The people around her didn't seem to have anything to trade, only what the Vipers allowed them to have already.

"Sex, usually." Hermione sighed.

"What?" Octavia hissed, completely offended. "Did you do that? For the peaches?"

"No," Hermione scoffed. "I would never do that. Plus I already contribute, more than most."

"Oh?" Octavia frowned. "What do you do?"

"Research," Hermione responded. "I'm assigned to the research team with two others. We pretty much just spend all of our time looking through books, ancient, new, magical and muggle. Searching for anything that can help us rebuild society."

"The world can't be fixed," Octavia clipped. Her past experiences with hopeful and ambitious groups taught her that. They always were overrun by the walkers. Killed and destroyed. She allowed herself to hope back then. Twice. Never again.

Hermione didn't respond, but her sad eyes scanned her sister. Recognising something that did not belong inside of her sister. Despair.

"I really did try," Hermione sighed. "To find you. I floo'd back to the house day after day. I went to your school. I went to your friend's house. I couldn't find you. Or mum and dad."

"They're dead." Octavia clipped, her voice void of emotion.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes shining with tears.

"I saw it." Octavia said, her jaw clenched slightly.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, tears rolling down her face, her grip on her sister's hand tightening.

Octavia shrugged softly. "It is what it is."

Hermione cried a little harder, despite her best efforts to remain strong. Her sister was different. The world had changed her. She was broken. Not cold and emotionless like she seemed. She was only masking the pain inside of her. The pain that Hermione saw in her eyes.

"It's easier for you guys, though, right?" Octavia asked, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "With magic, and all."

"No and yes," Hermione sighed. "It's complicated. Magic doesn't work on the walkers. We can't apparate anywhere, the noise attracts them as it's so loud. The magic vibrates in the air, calling to them almost. We don't stay in one place for long, knowing they'll come. Attracted to the wards we place around camp. But we can use silencing spells around camp, and when we're travelling."

"Wards?" Octavia frowned. "If magic doesn't work, why put up wards?"

"They are minor wards. They let us know when the border is breached, giving us enough time to pack up and leave. Hopefully before any casualties happen."

"Oh," Octavia nodded slightly. "What about him?"

"Who?" Hermione frowned.

"That blonde man," Octavia inclined her head to the man across from them, sitting with the rest of the Vipers. His cold grey eyes fixed on Octavia. His intense gaze not faltering in the slightest.

"That's Draco Malfoy," Hermione grumbled. "The world's biggest prat, before and after the apocalypse."

Octavia giggled, causing Hermione to laugh. Octavia's giggles always made Hermione happy, the sound similar to bells jingling. Beautiful. The Granger girls didn't notice the small tug of the lips on Draco Malfoy's face as he watched them laugh. Listening to the muggle's giggle. But his face was stone again in a mere second.

"What's his damage?" Octavia asked, her giggles subsiding.

"Everything," Hermione shrugged, smiling at her sister's strange slang. "He's just evil, I think. But he's our leader."

"I don't like him," Octavia stated confidently.

"Most don't," Hermione nodded. "But he gets the job done, and well. Without him, we probably wouldn't be alive."

Octavia only grunted in response. She yawned and shifted her body to lay her head in Hermione's lap, stretching her legs on the log.

"Play with my hair," Octavia ordered.

Hermione smiled, nostalgia ripping at her heart. Whenever Octavia was sad about boys or school. Whenever their parents would ground her for sneaking out or finding condoms in her room. She would come to Hermione. Lay in her lap. And make her play with her hair. Relaxing to the tingling sensation on her scalp.

So Hermione Granger smiled as she ran her fingers through her sister's long blonde curls, massaging her scalp at intervals. A maternal touch. Octavia always came to Hermione for that. Maternal comfort. Although they were twins – albeit unidentical – Hermione was older. In mind and heart. So she was the mother of the two, Octavia was the child. It was that way six years ago. And after six years apart, deaths and the apocalypse, it had not changed their relationship. It was always like that.

Always.


	3. Chapter 3

Octavia awoke sharply at the crack of dawn, jolting upright into the sitting position in the bed. Her eyes scanned the room she was in, her hand grasping for her weapons. A snore caught her attention. She turned and looked beside her. Hermione. Her sister.

Octavia rubbed her hands over her face as she sighed in relief. She had forgotten for a moment where she was. Forgotten that she had found her sister and joined a new group.

Octavia climbed out of the bed quietly, slipping on her white maxi dress before exiting the tent. The camp was quiet, only a few guards appeared to be awake. She stretched after shoving on her combat boots, deciding to take a walk in the woodlands to kill time. It was very early and breakfast wasn't for a few hours, so she assumed nobody would wake for a while. Strolling over to the inventory trucks, Octavia tried to calm herself somewhat. Waking in a strange place had definitely unnerved her, and she was struggling with being around people again. A walk in the woodlands would help her relax, allowing her to feel a sense of familiarity. The camp was a safe place, but she didn't feel ... right. She didn't feel comfortable within the boundaries. Hardly surprising though when you spent the better part of six years wandering from place to place, completely free but alone.

As she approached the moody guard leaning against the truck she forced an unfamiliar polite smile.

"I need a gun, please," she smiled. "Or a knife if you don't have any firearms."

"Why?" The man grumbled, eyeing her suspiciously.

"To go into the woods," she tilted her head toward the neighbouring trees.

"You got permission?" The man grumbled again, his eyes tired and uninterested.

"Permission?" She frowned at him. "To go into the woods? Or get a weapon?"

"Both," he rolled his eyes. "You need permission."

"From who?"

"General Malfoy," he groaned, bored of her presence already.

"Oh," she furrowed her brows. "Ok, well where is he?"

The man smirked inclining his head toward a nearby tent. The tent was black, flanked by five similar tents. But she knew which one the man meant. It was the one that a disheveled woman climbed out of in her underwear, clutching her clothes to her chest, scurrying out quickly. The woman glanced around, obviously hoping to go unnoticed. She blushed as she met Octavia's eyes before turning and fleeing to the smaller tents at the other end of camp.

Octavia frowned as she eyed the black tents, obviously grander than the others. Closest to the supplies and vehicles.

"Should I wait?" Octavia asked hesitantly, not sure if the crack of dawn was an appropriate time to barge in on the leader. But he was probably awake, she assumed. It appeared he kicked the woman out of his tent, so Octavia predicted that he wasn't asleep.

"There's a list in the recreation tent," the gruff man spoke. "You put your name on it and the reason you wish to meet with him. If he grants the meeting, the time will appear next to your name."

"When do I find out if he permits the meeting?" She frowned.

"Whenever he checks his copy of the paper," the man shrugged.

"Oh," Octavia scrunched her nose. "Thanks."

She sighed as she walked over to tent she believed to be the recreation room. Hermione had pointed it out last night, but in all honesty, Octavia had barely been paying attention. Her focus was on the intense and threatening eyes of 'General Malfoy'. Octavia scoffed. More like General Fuckwit. His regime was entirely elitist, magical folk definitely at the top. And having to go on a waiting list just to get a few minutes with the guy was ridiculous. That's if he even permitted the meeting after considering your reasons. Outrageous. It was ridiculous.

If Hermione wasn't here, Octavia would stay under she recovered fully, regaining her strength for a few days. Then leave. She would much rather be out there on her own again than stuck in some fascist group trying to rebuild the world in General Fuckwit's image. But Hermione was here. So she would play along … for now.

Entering the Recreation Room, Octavia scanned the walls swiftly, searching for the waiting list. And she groaned when she spotted it. Marching over to the waiting list, she furrowed her brows in annoyance. It was huge. So many people had written their names and their reasons on the list, some several times over! She pouted as she grabbed the nearby pencil, scribbling her name and reason ('weapons') on the paper. Her handwriting was always terrible but after so many years of not practicing it, her words were barely decipherable. But whatever, he would figure it out. She tossed the pencil back onto the table, her eyes scanning the entries on the waiting list. Not one of them had a time next to their name. Odd. Mind you, the Vipers only just returned from a mission apparently, and some of the listed reasons were laughable. _'Amount of marshmallows with hot chocolate needs to be increased', 'muggles keep hoarding the guitar around the campfire', 'cosmetics need to be added to the runner's lists.'_

Octavia scoffed as she read the reasons, some were just downright ridiculous. Perhaps General Fuckwit had the system in place for a reason. So he wouldn't spend his time entertaining silly requests and complaints, rather utilising it to keep the group safe and venture onto dangerous missions every other day. Maybe she had been a little too judgemental. But that was hardly her fault, she thought. Considering she hadn't been around people in so long, she found it difficult to read them. She struggled to understand them, their body language. It was almost like joining a camp of aliens, she mused. She felt very out of place.

Oh. Octavia tilted her head as she watched ink appear on the paper. A time, next to her name! _5:15 AM._ Octavia frowned at the ink, before glancing at her watch. It was now.

She grunted before turning and sprinting out of the recreation room, headed straight for the black tents. She wasn't sure how much time he would give her, so she had to hurry. As much as his system might benefit and serve him, Octavia still wasn't a fan. Her previous groups had not been like this. They were open and everyone was equal. There was no real leader as such, but there were a few outspoken people. She missed those groups. Especially the first one. That one was her favourite. The one where she met him. Nyle.

* * *

Octavia held her head high as she entered the tent, drawing on the scraps of courage she had around this man. Not much, that was for sure. Octavia would never consider herself to be a _brave_ person, like her sister, but she was strong now. The end of the world did that to you. Was it strength though? Or a semblance of it? Something false that she manifested within herself to cope? Who knows!

"You don't knock," came a cold drawl from the far end of the tent.

The tent was like Hermione's only larger. A magical tent, huge and grand on the inside, small and compact on the outside. This particular tent featured a large four-poster bed, a desk, a bookshelf full of ancient literature and a sitting area. Pretty extravagant for the end of the world, she mused bitterly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, approaching the desk he sat at, reclining in his chair. "I find knocking on fabric a little difficult."

She was sure she muttered the last part too quietly for him to hear, but his eyes darkened. His molten grey eyes on her. Cold and calculating. Observing her. She felt like his prey. She had annoyed him, she knew it instantly.

"My time is precious," he drawled, eyeing her coolly.

She got the hint.

"Well," Octavia sighed, standing before the desk awkwardly. "I just want to get my weapons back. Or maybe just a knife or something."

"Why?" General Fuckwit asked tersely, his cold voice unnerving her more.

"So I can … have a weapon," she shrugged lamely. "I want to go out into the woods sometimes. I need a weapon in case … walkers."

"No." He clipped, his cold eyes boring into hers.

"No?" She frowned at him, her eyes alight with anger and apprehension.

"That is my answer," he drawled. "You are not to journey outside of the camp boundaries."

"I came here with weapons," she asserted, trying to keep her voice steady and confident. "I want them back."

"You did not come here with weapons," he drawled, looking rather bored. Or he would look bored if it weren't for his intense stare. "You surrendered your weapons to us prior to your entrance to the camp."

"Well, I want them back now." She frowned at him. This was just so ridiculous. "I can return them when I come back from the woods."

She tried to compromise, but it appeared to be futile. His eyes only darkened further, his jaw clenched somewhat.

"My word is final." He snapped. "You are not granted permission to carry weapons, nor are you permitted to exit the borders of the camp."

"You can't be serious," she hissed at him, her eyes aflame.

"I am quite serious," he responded coolly as he rose from his chair.

She glared at him as he grabbed her bag from beneath his desk, tossing it at her. She caught it barely, fumbling with it. Scowling, she zipped open her back, checking the contents. Her locket and her photograph with Nyle.

Nyle …

Her jaw clenched as she zipped it closed again, her hazel eyes meeting his grey orbs.

"Where's the rest?" She asked rudely. "There was a tarp, rope and flashlight."

"You will no longer require those items," he drawled, waving his hand to indicate the meeting was over as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

"What if something happens?" She raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The camp is safe, I assure you."

"They always say that," she spat, narrowing her eyes at him bravely. Or foolishly. It could be either one, really. "Until the dead come and destroy everything."

"In the unlikely event of an attack, you will be escorted to safety with the rest of the survivors," he drawled, his tone bored. "This meeting is adjourned."

She glowered at him but his intense, dangerous gaze did not falter. Clenching her jaw, she turned and stormed out of the tent, making a show of her annoyance with huffs and heavy steps. His eyes watching her go.

* * *

Octavia sat on the desk in the research room, watching her sister pour over a pile of large books filled with odd symbols.

"And then he said," Octavia seethed, her face flushed with anger, "his word is _'final'_ like he's my fucking dad or something. Wanker."

Hermione scoffed in response, her eyes still fixed on the odd symbols.

"He's a bit like that," Hermione shrugged. "Best not to get on his bad side, O."

Octavia frowned. She hated when people called her 'O'. It wasn't her name.

"Whatever," Octavia narrowed her eyes. "I just want a knife or something. It's not a ridiculous request."

Octavia's eyes flickered to the blonde girl in the corner as she sighed. Astoria, she thought. She was sure that was her name. Astoria Blueberry or something equally as stupid.

"To provide a newcomer with weapons is," Astoria paused, searching for the right word, smiling at Octavia before finishing her sentence. "Ridiculous, as you put it."

Octavia glared at the girl, knowing instantly she didn't like her. Bitch. But she bit her tongue, noticing the man with the hooked nose glowering at her as he tried to read. Snape, was it? Whatever. He was annoyed with her. Obviously she was distracting them from their work. But she didn't have anything else to do. She wasn't assigned any job yet, given it was only her second day in the camp.

But it was obvious she was not welcome by two of the occupants, and her sister seemed to be interested in her work.

Sighing, she jumped off the desk before strolling to the exit.

"Where are you going?" Hermione called after her.

"Exploring the camp," Octavia shrugged, continuing to walk away. "I'll come back later."

Octavia chewed her bottom lip as she exited the tent, the camp bustling with energy and people. All going about their day's work. All with stuff to do. Everyone but her. She strolled around for a while, visiting the recreation room a few times. But it was only filled with children. About five or so. Boring. She didn't like kids too much. A huge liability in times like these.

She decided to venture down to the quarry, knowing it was within the borders of the camp and guarded at all times.

Climbing down the slope, Octavia grunted as she jumped the last metre, landing on the boulders like a cat. Perfectly. Her agility was incredible. That combined with her stealth is what allowed to her survive for so long. Especially in the times she was alone. She hid and sneaked around, avoiding the dead like a plague. For they were a plague. A walking plague that ruined everything.

Octavia sat on one of the boulders, watching people splash in the water merrily. Idiots. They felt too safe. The walkers would come and kill them. It was always the happy ones that died first. They weren't careful.

But it didn't matter, really. Everyone died eventually. They all would. Even she would. In time. Perhaps soon, you never know. Perhaps she should make more of an effort with the people around camp, she mused. She could die any day now.

Did she really want to spend her remaining days on this earth being an outcast? No. But she tried to interact before. In the research tent. Only to end up annoying two members of the camp. High ranking members, unfortunately. But it was difficult for her. It had been so long since she interacted with anyone and she just didn't know what to say. So she said what came to her mind, if she spoke at all. She didn't feel comfortable here. She felt out of place. Like a human walking among aliens. Foreign.

The others would watch her warily, residents of the camp clearly curious and cautious. It was to be expected, really. She was new. A stranger. Walking among them. But it didn't do her any favours. It made her feel worse. It made it harder to make an effort. More difficult to talk to people. Knowing they were uneasy around her. Eyeing her suspiciously. As though she presented some threat to their tranquil lives. The delusional bubbles they resided in.

But she wasn't the real threat. No. The dead were. Not her. But they didn't see that. They only saw a stranger. And she was that stranger.

The outcast.


	4. Chapter 4

_Octavia sat in the car beside her dad as he drove recklessly through the suburban streets. Willing the tears to flee, Octavia watched as her father sped through the streets, hitting people occasionally. But they weren't people. Not really. They were dead, but not. Dead but walking. The undead. Their blood staining the windscreen. Her dad used the window wipers to wash the blood away. Such an ordinary thing to do. Use window wipers. But it was no ordinary day._

 _Octavia and her dad were rushing home to find her mum, and hopefully Hermione. He was only picking Octavia up from her high-school when one of the students were attacked. Octavia screamed and cried as she watched a homeless man rip apart the boy's throat savagely. Her father grabbed her arm and hauled her away as the dead boy jumped up from the ground. His eyes cloudy, throat gone, but … walking. He ran and attacked another student … and then it spread. Fast._

 _Racing through the streets, Octavia couldn't believe what she saw through the car windows. Blood and death everywhere. Children eating their parents. Parents eating their children. Old people eating their dogs. It was madness. A horror movie. One that seemed to come alive._

 _They had heard about the outbreak in America, but the government had assured the citizens of Britain that they were safe. Quarantine zones were set up at every entry point to the land, including airports and the English Channel tunnel. But evidently it did not work. The plague was here. Consuming the British people, like it did the Americans._

 _Her father sped through their street, the car turning sharply, skidding on the road loudly, before he revved up the driveway, crashing into the garage door. They both bolted out of the car quickly, headed straight for the front door. The door that was open and smeared with blood._

 _A cry escaped Octavia's throat as she saw her mum. Her mum. Eating the leg of an elderly man. A dead man. Several walking dead were hunched over him, tearing at his flesh._

 _Octavia felt a hand grab her arm, yanking her back to the car. She jumped into the car quickly, her dad reversing out the driveway hurriedly, tears falling down his face, his jaw clenched._

 _They drove and drove. For hours. Only stopping when the fuel ran out. And that's when Octavia's second life began. The life she lived among the dead._

* * *

Drenched in sweat, Octavia's body shot up from the mattress, tears stinging her eyes, her lips parted in a silent scream. She shivered as she escaped her dream. A memory. So vivid. So real.

Holding back the sobs, Octavia slinked out of the bed silently, shoving on her dress before exiting the tent. Dawn. Always awaking at the crack of dawn.

Only guards were awake. She sighed as she made her way down to the quarry. She would wash herself while the others slept. She didn't like to wash publically. Her dress would go see-through. She didn't like that. It made her feel … vulnerable.

A feeling she was used to in her first life. The life she missed so dearly. But in this life, the life among the dead, you could not afford to feel vulnerable. Not in this world.

So she bathed in the murky water of the quarry. Using a rock to scrape off the dirt from her body. Unaware of cold grey eyes watching her from the camp, up the hill.

The cold grey eyes that watched her intently.

* * *

Octavia sat beside Hermione as she watched a few cars pull into the camp. The Runners, Hermione had said. Returning from their mission. Some guards and muggles approached the cars, hauling boxes out of the back seats and trunks. A red-head climbed out of the first car, clad in similar gear to the Vipers. She didn't help unload the truck. None of the Runners did. They all made their way over to the people surrounding the unlit fire pit. The red-head making her way straight toward her and Hermione. Her sister stood and ran toward the ginger girl, Octavia frowning as they embraced. She watched as they spoke for a while, glancing over at her a few times.

Forcing a smile, Octavia remained polite and welcoming as they approached her, pushing the jealousy down.

"I'm Ginny," the red-head smiled, sitting in front of Octavia, Hermione taking her place beside Octavia again.

"Octavia," she responded, forcing a polite smile. Smiling felt so strange to her now, so very unfamiliar.

"It's pretty amazing that you found each other," Ginny spoke with awe, her eyes flickering between the two sisters.

"We're very lucky," Hermione smiled, glancing at her sister.

Octavia only nodded in response. It still felt like a dream to her. Not quite real. But she put that down to her desensitised state. She hadn't allowed herself to feel for a while now. Only fear. But if she let herself feel happy for just a moment … well that's usually when the walkers came. Right when you felt safe, happy and comfortable. They would come to remind you of the misery of the world.

Octavia watched as Astoria and a pug-faced girl approached them, sitting on either side of Ginny. It appeared Octavia was sitting with a little clique. Perhaps joining them.

"So Astoria told me that you're Granger's sister," the pug-face girl spoke, smiling softly. Like she didn't want to scare Octavia away. Like she understood her hesitance and uneasiness. Octavia liked her.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded.

"Congratulations," the girl smiled at her warmly. Yes, Octavia liked this girl very much.

"You were gone for a while," Hermione stated, eyes shining with concern at the red-head.

"Ran into some trouble," Ginny sighed. "Another group."

"Oh?" Hermione's eyes widened in interest. Even Octavia turned her full attention to Ginny at the mention of another group.

"They didn't know we were there," pug-face explained. "We stayed hidden, watching them. Not good people."

"They set up camp in the apartments across from where we were hiding," Ginny explained.

"Where were you hiding?" Octavia asked curiously.

"In a doctor's practice," pug-faced answered.

"We couldn't sneak out without them noticing, so we waited. Took a week for them to clear out."

"Thank Merlin we found supplies before they arrived," pug-face sighed.

"Did you find much?" Hermione asked, playing with her food.

"Some," Ginny nodded. "Not a lot though. Malfoy won't be happy. Our last run didn't go so well either."

"It's the area," Hermione responded. "We've been here for a while now, bled everything dry."

"Yeah, hopefully he sees that," Ginny smirked, but her eyes looked apprehensive.

Octavia took great comfort in knowing that others were frightened by the man as well.

"When is your meeting with him?" Octavia asked.

"We don't meet with Malfoy," Ginny replied, shaking her head slightly. "We meet with Zabini, he's in charge of the Runners. But he reports back to Malfoy."

"Oh," Octavia nodded. "And if Malfoy isn't happy?"

"He might demote me from Head Runner," Ginny frowned, evidently concerned about the possibility.

"He's an arse," Octavia frowned.

Ginny and pug-face laughed, obviously in agreeance with her declaration. Octavia smiled at the sound, glad to be interacting with others well enough to make them laugh. A surge of pride shot through her.

"Octavia had a meeting with him yesterday morning," Hermione explained. "He wouldn't give her any weapons."

"That's not uncommon," pug-faced shrugged. "Giving a newcomer weapons would cause a stir."

"But I just wanted them for the morning, to go out into the woods," Octavia frowned. "I said I'd bring them back after."

"He didn't offer you a trade?" Ginny frowned, twirling her knife in hand.

"No," Octavia shook her head. "I would have slapped him if he did, though."

Well, she liked to think she would have done that. Perhaps not though. He was rather intimidating.

"Draco doesn't offer trades," the pug-faced girl laughed beside Ginny. "Draco just … receives. The trade is never guaranteed, though. He only ever considers the requests, usually declining them anyway."

"So he has sex with the women," Octavia reiterated slowly. "Then kicks them out in their underwear. Then doesn't give them what they want anyway. So … he takes advantage of the women and his position."

"If you want to look at it that way," the pug-girl responded. "But the women know that it isn't guaranteed. It's just their way of getting a meeting with him, really. He never approves the meetings. He probably only approved yours because you're new."

"I saw one of the pretty muggle women with chocolate last week," Ginny leaned back against the log. "So Malfoy obviously trades sometimes at least."

"That was Zabini's girl," Hermione responded with a barely detectable sigh.

"Whatever," Ginny shrugged. "Probably best to be one his girls than Malfoy's though. You get chocolate."

Pansy and Octavia laughed at her words, but Octavia noticed Hermione's narrowed eyes. Strange.

"So why do they do it?" Octavia asked, nibbling on her slice of bread. "Why do they trade their bodies for fucking chocolate of all things?"

"You'd be amazed at the weird trades going on around here," Ginny shook her head. "And it's only the low ranking women that do it. They have nothing else to trade with, and I think they actually _enjoy_ being with the Vipers. Some of them silly enough to hope that they'll catch feelings or something."

Hermione scoffed at Ginny's words. "I don't think they could feel if they wanted to," she snapped.

Octavia appeared to be the only one to notice Hermione's odd behaviour, as she was the only one to observe the bushy-haired girl questioningly. Everyone else was just focused on their breakfast.

"So what's considered high-ranking? Or … just, what are the ranks?" Octavia asked, eyeing her scrambled eggs with disgust.

She hated scrambled eggs. Mum used to make her eat them when she was younger, calling her preference for poached eggs 'snobbish'. Octavia hardly agreed. How you preferred your eggs said nothing about you as a person … right? Right. But she would eat them all the same. You had to, in a world like this. You had to eat whatever you lucky enough to find or be given.

"Well, the highest ranks are obviously the Vipers," Ginny began, speaking with a mouthful of toast. "But we don't usually count them in the ranks, because they're our leaders. So the high-ranks are people in the Runners group and Research and Medical teams."

"The middle ranks," pug-faced began, "are the hunters and the guards. The people that guard the camp and the inventory trucks are the same team, sometimes joined by the Runners when we're back at camp for longer than a few days."

"And the low ranks?" Octavia asked, interestedly. She hadn't been assigned a job yet, but she was hoping it wouldn't be in the low ranks.

"That's the home-makers, really." Pug-faced answered with a nod of the head, indicating the women on the far end of the camp. "They have different factions. Some tend to the animals, some watch the children, some cook and clean, some do the laundry down at the quarry."

Octavia glanced over at the women. They were sorting out piles of laundry tossed onto the ground by residents of the group. Dirty clothes and bed sheets. Children ran around them, rather annoyingly to be honest. Some of the women tried to control the children, but no to avail. Other women were cleaning up the plates left by group members that had finished their breakfast.

"Fuck that." Octavia said with raised eyebrows.

"You'll want to apply for a higher ranking position before you're assigned," Ginny advised, her pitying eyes on the home-makers.

"It's not so bad," Hermione sighed. "I haven't done it, but most of those women chose to be home-makers. They get to stay within the boundaries of camp and be protected."

"Well I don't want that." Octavia frowned. She didn't want to stay within the confines of the camp at all times, and she sure as hell didn't want to clean up after others.

"They may be low-ranking," Astoria spoke quietly, "but they are valuable. They do the tasks that we do not have time for."

"Can't you just use your wands to clean?" Octavia asked, keeping the disdain from her voice. She really wasn't a fan of this Astoria girl.

"No," Ginny smiled sadly. "The more magic we use, the quicker the walkers find us. And most of us don't even have our wands anymore. It's best to keep the use of magic to a minimum, on and off camp. Those are the rules anyway, but they're like that for a reason."

Octavia nodded, entirely fascinated by the complexities between the undead and magic. She wanted to know more about it. Maybe she could join the research team? No. She wasn't smart enough for that. Definitely not.

"You could be a Fixer," Astoria smirked. "They go and get firewood, tend to the vehicles, fixing things around camp."

Octavia scrunched up her nose at the girl. Why would she want to be a Fixer? What a strange suggestion.

"No, I'll pass on that one thanks." Octavia sighed, her eyes scanning the campfire.

The Runners looked happy to be back at camp, laughing and chatting away with one another and a few residents of the group. Octavia's eyes locked with cold grey orbs across the unlit fire pit. She almost shivered under his stare, his stony expression unsettling her. He stood by Blaise Zabini – or 'Lieutenant Zabini' – looking deep in conversation. But his eyes were on her. Were they talking about her? She hoped not. She wanted to fly under his radar, going unnoticed. She knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon though. She pissed him off yesterday, asking for her weapons. And she was about to piss him off again today, asking about her assignment. Or lack of.

Hopefully after she had been assigned, she could stay out of his way. And he'd forget about her. She'd be just another survivor, and he could hate someone else. Intimidate someone else. Hopefully.

"I might go talk to him," Octavia sighed, obviously reluctant.

"Who?" Hermione frowned.

Octavia inclined her head to the built figure of Draco Malfoy, his eyes boring into hers fiercely. The others turned and followed her gaze, paling slightly when they saw Malfoy stare at the girl so intensely.

"I wouldn't recommend that," pug-face advised gravely.

The others turned their gazes back to Octavia, Astoria looking at her like she was daft or something.

"Why not?" Octavia frowned, averting her eyes from the cold grey orbs staring at her.

"Because you just don't approach Malfoy," Ginny shook her head. "You put your name on the list for a meeting. And if he grants it, then you can speak to him."

"He's right there," Octavia frowned. "I only want to ask a question."

"Octavia," Hermione warned. "Don't get on his bad side. Approaching him like that … he won't like it."

"Seriously," Octavia scoffed, standing up. "You act like he's a king or something."

"He might as well be," pug-faced spoke warningly. "I've known him since I was a young girl, and I wouldn't approach him like this."

"What's he gonna do?" Octavia mocked.

The girls didn't answer, remaining silent. Octavia shook her head before making her way over to Malfoy, the girls' eyes on her every move, watching anxiously. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but Octavia needed to be assigned to something. Doing nothing all day was driving her crazy. She couldn't stop the memories from seeping into her mind, breaking her heart and soul each time. Reliving the pain.

She had to be assigned to something. She had to be kept busy. Given something to do. So she didn't have to relive it all. She couldn't. She didn't have the strength.

* * *

 _The noises … the fucking noises. It was horrifying. But Octavia couldn't help. Not even if she tried. But she didn't try. She hid. In the tree. Her eyes shut tight, hands over her ears._

 _The camp beneath her was being ravaged by a herd of walkers. People being torn to shreds. Her second group, completely devoured and consumed by the undead. And there was nothing she could do about it._

 _The alarm hadn't sounded to alert the group of the attack. The only alarm they had was being woken up to the sounds of gunfire and screams. Horrible screams. Screams that would haunt you for the rest of your days._

 _Octavia rushed out of her tent that she shared with another girl. A new girl. She didn't last long. Almost as soon as she exited the tent, a walker charged at her, but Octavia jumped out of the way in time. The walker fell into the tent, quickly tearing into the new girl in there. Octavia grimaced as she heard her scream. But there was nothing she could do. More walkers were headed for her. She swung her bag over her shoulders and ran, weaving through the battle effortlessly. Members of the group fought, attempting to protect their camp. Octavia knew it was pointless. She had seen it happen before to her first group. That group was larger, stronger and better. The herd that attacked was smaller. Yet they fell anyway. This second group would be no different, Octavia knew._

 _So she ran. She ran to the nearby trees, standing almost in the centre of camp. She climbed up the tree, all the way to the top. Pulling rope from her backpack, she tied herself to the branches so that if she fell, she wouldn't plummet to the ground. Satisfied with the rope's security, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her ears. Refusing to hear the screams beneath her. Focusing on surviving._

 _That is how Octavia knew she was not a brave girl. She knew she was a coward. When it came down to it, she was pathetic. But it was part of the reason she had survived so long. That, and the fact that others seemed to protect her. Mainly guys. She knew it was because she was pretty. But it was mostly because of her eyes. Her wide hazel eyes, screaming innocence and vulnerability. Even though she was neither of those things anymore. Right?_

 _That was the worst destruction of a group to date. She stayed in the tree for four days. Watching as people she once joked and laughed with, turned. Turned to the undead. They hovered in the camp for a while, lingering and feasting on the leftover flesh. Eventually they cleared out. But Octavia waited another day. She had to be sure they had moved a considerable distance away. Before she climbed down from the safety of the tree._

 _To spend the next year alone. Wandering the land all alone. Never feeling safe. Barely sleeping. Finding food and water along the way. Not much. But enough._

 _She kept hidden. It was the only way to survive. She couldn't fight. She wasn't good at killing them. So she stayed hidden. She did what Nyle had taught her at times. Gutting a walker, spreading their guts and blood over your clothes and body. It worked on the sunny days, the days that it wasn't raining. The walkers couldn't smell you then. So you could pass them. Going unnoticed. But it was hard to get one alone to do that. Usually they travelled in herds now. In packs. She was no match for them._

 _So she hunted one, silently. Hiding in the shadows. Before attacking, barely surviving at times. And she would gut them, covering herself in their rotting insides. Going unnoticed as she walked through herds of walkers. But her fear was always there. Afraid that her pounding heart would give her away. It never did._

 _She was allowed enough time to find a place to hide. To sleep and rest. Watching as the herds passed her by. Grateful for another day. But bitter that she was alive._

 _Too cowardly to take her own life. Too cowardly to die. Too cowardly to keep on living._

 _Such a coward._

* * *

Octavia thinned her lips as she noticed Malfoy tense slightly as she approached him, Blaise staring at her in a mixture of distaste and incredulity. The girls had warned her against approaching them without requesting a meeting, but Octavia didn't care. She was a foolish girl, relying on her big doe-eyes to keep her out of trouble. They usually did. But it didn't seem to make a difference with General Fuckwit. He just seemed to radiate hate and anger whenever she was around. Always watching her.

"Hey," she smiled at both men, her eyes flickering between the two.

Blaise's eyes widened slightly as she stood in front of them expectantly, before composing himself. Draco's eyes were dark and penetrating, as always, his body tense.

"Can I talk to you?" Octavia asked hesitantly, instantly feeling uncomfortable and definitely unwanted.

He considered her for a moment, jaw clenched. His eyes penetrated hers fiercely, causing her stare to falter. She averted her eyes from his, looking at the ground instead.

"You have five minutes," he growled, turning and stalking over to his tent.

Octavia didn't miss the look of shock on Blaise's face before she jogged to keep up with Malfoy. She followed him into the tent, watching him cautiously as he walked over to his desk. He turned to face her, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk.

"Well?" He spat, his ablaze with anger. Obviously not happy with her disregard for the rules, opting to approach him in the middle of camp instead. Oops.

"Um," she hesitated, incredibly nervous, wringing her hands together.

"Speak," he snarled at her, evidently furious.

Ok, she was definitely nervous now. Probably would have been best to listen to the girls. Great.

Her eyes filled with anxiety, looking at him with apprehension. His eyes did not soften.

"I just wanted to," she spoke quietly, not out of choice. "Well, I want my assignment. I'm bored and just wanted to know when I should expect the assignment."

She thinned her lips at her lame words, a small blush gracing her cheeks. Her fingers wringing in her hands. She didn't know what it was about this man, but she felt miniscule before him. Like a tiny worthless little girl. She felt nervous and anxious. Scared and intimidated. She wanted to shrink back into the wall, hiding in the shadows away from him. She felt … vulnerable. Something she knew she shouldn't feel. Not in a world like this.

"Your assignment," he sneered, "has hardly been a priority of mine."

"Oh … ok," she nodded, biting her bottom lip. Octavia knew she was pathetic around him. Where had her bravery gone? Or, more accurately, her foolishness?

"I will assign you a position at a later date," he drawled, his molten grey eyes seething anger. "Unless that _displeases_ you."

She clenched her jaw and blushed further at his ridicule.

"No," she muttered lamely. "That's fine … thanks."

She turned and practically jogged out of the tent, eager to die of shame somewhere far from General Fuckwit. What a wanker!

Octavia shuffled back over to the girls by the unlit fire pit, all of their eyes on her expectantly. She slumped back down beside Hermione, averting everyone's eyes.

"How'd it go?" Astoria smirked.

"Shut up," she grumbled, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"I can't believe he even spoke to you," pug-girl exclaimed. "I thought he was just going to walk away from you."

"I thought that's what he was doing," Ginny admitted. "Then you followed him."

Octavia thinned her lips, keeping her eyes on the ground, her fingers playing with the small stones.

"You've definitely pissed him off," Hermione sighed, her eyes on Malfoy as he returned to Zabini.

Octavia didn't raise her eyes to check. But the others did.

"Yeah, he's not happy." Ginny muttered sympathetically.

"Maybe he'll understand that you're new, and didn't know?" Pug-girl offered lamely.

"I'm an idiot," Octavia grumbled, rubbing her hands over her face. "I should've just waited and put my name on the list."

"What did he say?" Astoria asked interestedly.

"Nothing bad, it was just how he said it, you know?" Octavia furrowed her brows. "He's pretty scary. And he was pissed off. So yeah, I'm probably gonna be assigned to some shitty job now."

"He'll probably wait until we move camp," Hermione sighed. "We move in a few days I think, so I doubt he's given much thought to your assignment."

"Yeah," Octavia nodded. "Hopefully he's not as pissed off by then."

"I doubt it," Ginny sighed, turning to assess Malfoy's anger. Still there.

"He's glaring at you," Astoria said with a smile.

Octavia frowned but kept her eyes averted from Malfoy. The last thing she wanted to do was entertain his dislike for her, feeding his anger. No. She definitely needed to fly under the radar, and that started now. Maybe a little too late, but better late than never.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

Octavia kicked the dirt as she stood in centre of the empty camp, unsure what to do with herself. It was her sixth day with the group, and they were moving. She wasn't sure where they were going. Only the drivers knew, Octavia assumed. Given that about thirteen people crowded around the Vipers, listening intently as Blaise pointed to a map and spoke assertively.

The vehicles were all set up and ready to go after several hours of packing and hard labour. Well, Octavia considered it to be hard labour. She was exhausted. But now, she didn't know what to do. Hermione was speaking to Astoria and Snape about private research team stuff, much to Octavia's annoyance. Ginny and Pansy were arguing over who was driving by the line of vehicles. Residents of the camp were socialising, hugging one another occasionally. Octavia knew from her experience with camps that they were hoping it was not the last time they saw one another. Things sometimes went wrong when you travelled on the roads. Cars broke down, people fell ill. Sometimes a herd would cut cars off, separating the group. You never really knew what could happen out on the road. So they were hugging and kissing … just in case.

Chewing her bottom lip, Octavia observed the line of vehicles at the end of camp. The first three were the Jeeps that belonged to the Vipers. Of course they would lead, she scoffed. Followed by the Runners in two SUVs. Behind them, the inventory trucks. Behind those, several cars of different shapes and sizes. Two caravans followed. Behind them, and at the end of the line, the Guards in two black SUVs. Every driver was armed, the Guards, Runners and Vipers especially. Their cars held machine guns and a box of ammo. They also had the most food packed, for lunches and dinners. They wouldn't be stopping for a while, driving through the night, so the groups would have to eat in the cars. Apparently it would take two days to get to where they were going. Octavia estimated that they wouldn't stop the vehicles until early the next morning, only to fuel up. So the group would have to hurry if they wanted a toilet break or anything.

She scowled. She hoped she was placed in one of the caravans. That way, she wouldn't have to hold in her pee for about fifteen hours. Octavia knew she would be assigned to a vehicle. Apparently there was even a system for how they travelled and who sat where. It was ridiculous. She hoped she would be with Hermione, but she doubted it. Octavia's rank was low, probably the lowest considering she had yet to be assigned a duty thus far. So she would probably be assigned to one of the sedans, making for a cramped and uncomfortable ride with a bunch of strangers. Great.

And it didn't make her feel better knowing that the group weren't particularly fond of her. She knew it's because she kept to herself, staying quiet the majority of the time. She didn't make an effort, but it was difficult for her to be around people so much. Constantly. She was still adjusting to the situation. Even at that, she wasn't interested in making any friends. It would only make it harder when they died. They always died.

Ginny appeared to be arguing with someone else now. Theo, was it? That red-head was definitely fiery! Octavia frowned as she watched them argue ... Well, Theo was merely eyeing the red-head with disdain while she pointed at Astoria and then the moody Snape guy. Weird. That girl had some serious gall about her! Arguing with a Viper. Or was it foolishness, like Octavia had in surges around Malfoy? Speak of the devil.

"You!" General Fuckwit called out, approaching her.

"Yeah?" She furrowed her brows, eyeing him cautiously.

Was his predatory approach intentional? Or was just how he was? Probably the former. Octavia would bet anything that he just enjoyed making her nervous. Some sick twisted form of entertainment.

"You're in the front Jeep," he ordered, his tone cold and commanding.

She furrowed her brows at him before glancing at the front Jeep. Hermione was climbing into it, looking around for her.

"Now!" He barked, causing her to flinch slightly.

She pursed her lips, not sparing him a glance as she stomped off toward the first Jeep to join her sister, General Fuckwit walking behind her, keeping her pace.

His eyes on her bouncing curls. Watching them move and sway in the light breeze. The sunlight reflecting off the ringlets. But she didn't know that.

"Hey," Hermione smiled at her as she climbed ungracefully into the backseat beside her.

Octavia only grunted in response, glaring at the blonde man that sat himself in the driver's seat, Blaise in the passenger seat. She was confused at being ordered to sit in the front Jeep, obviously a vehicle used for high-ranking members of the group. But she assumed it was so she was near her sister, considering she was new and all.

Following the other vehicles behind them, the Jeep roared to life, idling for a few minutes. Octavia kept her narrowed eyes on the side of Malfoy's face, radiating hate. He was just such an asshole. And now she was stuck in a car with the prat for at least fifteen hours.

Her eyes shifted to stare out of the window as the Jeep moved, the vehicles behind following.

Hermione tried to strike up a conversation with her but Octavia's mind was swimming. She ignored her. Her thoughts were preoccupied. She wanted nothing more than to pull the picture of Nyle out of her bag and stare at it, getting lost in his image, his smile. But Hermione would ask questions about the handsome black man with blue eyes. The beautiful Nyle. Questions that Octavia was not ready to answer. It had been over a year since he died, by her hands, but it was as though it happened yesterday. She was still haunted by the memory. Every memory of him. The happy and the devastatingly awful. Every thought of him broke her heart. But she kept pushing through, ignoring the ache in her chest. She had to keep pushing through. Moving. Maybe moving on. One day. But not today.

* * *

 _"What about mustard?" Nyle teased, knowing how much she hated the stuff._

 _Her nose scrunched as she eyed the condiment in his hand._

 _"No?" He grinned, tossing the bottle on the floor. "What about ketchup?"_

 _Her face scrunched up again, thoroughly disgusted._

 _"That's a no," he laughed. "You probably don't want these peaches either." He sighed, picking up a tin can from the shelf._

 _Her eyes lit up instantly, and he laughed._

 _"Oh," he raised his eyebrows, waving the can in front of her face. "You want this?"_

 _"Stop teasing me," she whined, trying to snatch the can from his hand._

 _He winked as he raised his hand, dangling the can above her, out of her reach._

 _Octavia scowled as she jumped to try and snatch it from him, entirely unsuccessful._

 _"You're such an ass," she scowled, stomping her foot like a child._

 _"I think I'll have the peaches for myself," he grinned playfully._

 _"We're supposed to be getting supplies for camp," she narrowed her eyes. "Not snacking for ourselves."_

 _"Oh?" Nyle smirked, his eyes twinkling. "So you don't want the peaches?"_

 _She bit her lip as she eyes the tinned fruit in his hand, assessing her best means of getting the can._

 _"You give me that," she pointed at the can in his hand, her eyes menacing. "And I'll give you this."_

 _She smirked as she snaked her hand underneath her dress, slipping off her knickers in one fluid movement. Dangling her white knickers on her finger, she backed up to the freezer boxes, jumping up on one to sit on it, spreading her legs provocatively._

 _Nyle tossed the can on the floor, marching over to her quickly, a wide grin on his face._

 _"Now that's an offer I can't resist," he grinned as he approached her, undoing his zipper quickly._

* * *

Octavia wiped drool from her mouth as she awoke groggily. She had fallen asleep in the backseat of the Jeep, her head leaning backwards. She groaned quietly, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to ease the ache.

"Sleep well?" Hermione teased, laughing at her sister's sluggish appearance.

"Shut up," Octavia grumbled, stifling back a yawn. "How long have we been driving for?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Three hours," Blaise replied tersely from the passenger seat.

Octavia stretched leisurely before leaning her head on Hermione's lap.

"Play with my hair," she demanded, closing her eyes.

"As you wish, your majesty," Hermione smiled, her fingers running through her sister's loose curls.

"So what's the deal with the Ginny girl," Octavia yawned.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned, her fingers massaging her sister's scalp softly.

"She was arguing this morning," Octavia explained, keeping the eagerness out of her voice. It surprised her that in a world like this, she was still just as interested in drama and gossip as she was six years ago. But some things just don't change.

"Oh," Hermione smiled knowingly. "She wanted Astoria in her Jeep, not Snape."

"Why?"

"She has a thing for Astoria," Hermione shrugged.

"Ew," Octavia furrowed her brows.

"Ew?" Hermione laughed. "Don't like her, then?"

"I'm not her biggest fan, no." Octavia thinned her lips. She definitely didn't like Astoria. She didn't _hate_ the girl, but she wouldn't necessarily go out of her way to save her or anything. Let's just say that.

"Well Ginny likes her," Hermione laughed.

"Hm," Octavia hummed. "Does Astoria know that?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so anyway."

"Oh. Do you like anyone?"

"Me?" Hermione widened her eyes before laughing lightly. "God, no. I'm too focused on how the world ended to be thinking about some guy."

"Uh huh," Octavia smirked.

Octavia knew her sister through and through. She especially knew when her sister was lying to her. And this was one of those times. Octavia noticed that Blaise's head was turned slightly, terribly hiding his attempt to eavesdrop. Interesting …

Octavia pulled her head from Hermione's lap, sitting herself up again.

"What about you?" Hermione asked, stretching in her seat.

"What?" Octavia frowned.

"Interested in anyone?"

"No," Octavia scoffed. "Same as you really. End of the world and all playing on my mind."

"Has there been anyone?" Hermione pressed, adjusting her seatbelt. "Six years is a long time."

"A few, here and there," Octavia shrugged.

"Anyone special though?"

"One." Octavia clipped, her eyes glistening with pain.

Hermione noticed this immediately, deciding not to press the topic further. She instead took her sisters hand in hers, holding it gently as they turned quiet. Driving in silence.

Cold grey eyes flickering between the road before them and the rear view mirror. Watching Octavia as she stared out of the window. Fixed on the side of her pretty face, her bottom lip trembling slightly. The eyes did not soften. But they watched her. Always.

* * *

 _Nyle and Octavia returned to camp hours ago, but Octavia refused to leave her father's side since they returned. She was lucky enough to find medical supplies on their trip. Supplies that helped ease her father's pain. She was grateful. His leg was amputated a month ago, but it still hurt. He wouldn't admit this to his daughter, but she saw the pain in his eyes throughout the day. Especially in the morning._

 _He never complained though. He knew he was lucky to be alive, following Nyle's quick thinking after he was bitten on the calf. If Nyle hadn't of cut off his leg as soon as the handful of walkers they encountered were taken care of, John Granger would be dead. Or undead. So he never complained about the pain._

 _Octavia felt guilty though. It was her fault her dad was in so much pain. It was her fault her dad was without a leg. If she hadn't tried to save that young girl from the walker, he wouldn't have had to save her. And he would have all his limbs intact. But that wasn't how it happened. So Octavia felt guilt every time she saw her dad. Watching him as he limped around camp with the aid of crutches. Knowing that he was debilitated and no longer able to fight. Knowing that it killed him inside that he wouldn't be able to protect his daughter if walkers were to invade their camp. So Octavia was consumed with guilt. Her only reprieve being Nyle._

 _Octavia grimaced as she watched the doctor (actually a Veterinarian) unwrap her father's bandage. His nub was ... gross. Clearly infected. But the supplies they scavenged from the pharmacy would help. Antibiotics and creams. Fresh bandages and IVs._

 _Her father thinned his lips, trying to stay strong for his daughter. But she saw. She saw the pain in his eyes as she always did. His pained brown eyes. Mixed with defeat. And misery._

 _She knew that he only continued living for her. The death of her mother destroyed him. They assumed Hermione dead, only adding to his misery. Octavia knew. That if it weren't for her, John Granger would have killed himself a long time ago. But he kept on living. For his daughter. His weak and vulnerable daughter that needed him. The daughter that needed to be protected. Always. Constantly. His sweet little Octavia. So weak. Too weak._

 _Too weak to live in a world like this._

* * *

Blaise reclined in the passenger seat in front of Octavia, lighting a cigarette. Furrowing her brows in annoyance, Octavia coughed lightly in protest but Blaise didn't seem to notice. Or just didn't care. Probably the latter.

Hermione shot Octavia a warning look as she went to kick the seat in front of her. Pouting, Octavia lowered her foot back to the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. Malfoy and Blaise spoke quietly among themselves, their voices low and gruff so the girls couldn't hear what they were saying. Much to Octavia's delight, Blaise apparently became bored with his cigarette, flicking it out of the window before grabbing a bag at his feet.

Hermione smiled as Blaise handed her a can of mixed fruit before he tossed back a can of peaches at Octavia. It hit her right in the arm. Prat.

Octavia glowered at the back of his head as she opened her tin of peaches, opting to keep quiet. She knew the tinned fruit was a privilege, most other members of the group receiving cold beans, soup or spam instead. So she kept quiet, happy with her appetising lunch but pissed off at the tanned Viper sitting in front of her. He obviously wasn't a fan of Octavia, but seemed to be polite enough to Hermione. It irked her a little. She wasn't used to that. Normally men were overly accommodating to her, fawning over her. Nobody ever gave her sister more attention than her. Nobody was ever nicer to her sister than to her. It might be selfish and bitchy, but it bothered Octavia.

She pushed those less than pleasant feelings of envy and injustice down, turning her attention to the can of her favourite fruit as Hermione ate hers.

* * *

 _Nyle, one hand on his bleeding shoulder, the other gripped onto Octavia's, yanked her through the field toward the cabin ahead. Tears fell down her face as she tried to keep up with Nyle. Her bleeding lover. Her bitten lover. Her dying lover._

 _Sobs escaped her pink lips as she ran beside Nyle, hand in hand with him, headed straight for the sanctuary ahead. They would take refuge in the cabin, hiding from the herd that devoured their camp a mile or so behind them._

 _Octavia whimpered as Nyle fell to the ground, unable to keep his strength any longer. Falling to her knees beside him, she tried to help him up, but he swatted her hand away._

 _"I can't," he panted, his beautiful dark skin paling._

 _"You have to," she snivelled, tears staining her flushed cheeks. "Get up."_

 _"I can't, Octavia." He sighed, his body shaking as the infection spread through his body. Sweat glistening on his beautiful face._

 _"Don't leave me," she cried, sobs wracking her body violently._

 _"I'm sorry," he sighed, his blue eyes looking up at her, filled with misery._

 _"I can't do this alone," she sobbed, like a child._

 _"You can," he whispered, his voice losing strength, much like his body. "You have to."_

 _"No," she sobbed, closing her eyes as though it would take her away from the horrors of this world._

 _"Here. Octavia, pay attention. Take this," his shaky voice ordered, his hand stretched toward her, offering her his locket._

 _His locket. The locket that belonged to his mother. The only thing he had left of hers. Giving it to Octavia. She sobbed harder._

 _"Take it," he demanded, his voice quivering, reeking with pain._

 _Tears soaked her dirty face as she took the locket from him, putting it into her bag to join their polaroid photograph._

 _"You have to do it, Octavia." Nyle spoke calmly, his voice hoarse and breaking._

 _"No," she sobbed, shaking her head._

 _"I can't turn into one of them," he said, his eyes pleading with her. "For me. Please."_

 _"I can't," Octavia cried. "Don't make me."_

 _"If you love me," he sighed, his eyelids heavy. "You'll do it. You have to."_

 _"Please don't make me," she cried, her body shaking from the sheer force of her sobs._

 _"Here," he handed her his gun. "It's got two bullets left. One for me. The other is for the walkers. Take my knives too. Take the holster."_

 _She snivelled as she unclasped the holster from his thigh, strapping it around her own. Her hands shaking all the while._

 _"Kill me, Octavia." He begged, his blue sparkling eyes pleading with her. Begging her to help him. To end it for him. "If you love me … even just a little bit … you'll do it."_

 _She grimaced at his words. She did love him. But she knew she wasn't in love with him. It hardly mattered in that moment, though. When he was so obviously in love with her. She had never said the words back to him, but he said it to her all the time. So his begging … it confused her. He knew she didn't love him. Not like he loved her. But he never seemed to mind. He never pushed her to say it. Maybe he was just content with her feelings for him as they were? Not needing more than she could offer him. Maybe._

 _Octavia knew she had to do what he asked. What he begged her for. For him. He had saved her life, and that is how he got bitten. It was her fault he was dying. Just like her dad. Dead back at camp. From saving her. People always trying to save her, dying in the process. She wasn't undead, but she was a plague nevertheless. Killing and destroying everything she touched. She was poison._

 _She had to make up for it in the only way she could. She had to give him mercy._

 _"I love you," Nyle whispered as she turned the safety off on the gun. "I love you, Octavia."_

 _She cried silently, putting the gun to his head, her hand shaking violently._

 _"I love you too," she smiled sadly, her eyes teary._

 _"No you don't," he smiled. "But thank you."_

 _She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. Her finger on the trigger. Shaking. Pulling slightly. Hesitantly. Not wanting to do this. Not wanting to be the person to do this to him. But she had to. For him._

 _Bang!_

* * *

Octavia jolted from her seat in the Jeep, sweat drenching her body, tears streaming down her pale face. A barely audible sob escaped her mouth, her pink lips wet with salty tears. She wiped her hand at her cheeks stubbornly, purging herself of her tears. Her jaw clenched as she closed her eyes, calming herself. Her heart aching and pounding against her chest, so loud she was sure the others could hear it. Or would hear it if they were awake.

It was dark now, Blaise and Hermione fast asleep as Malfoy drove. She sighed and leaned back against the chair, her eyes fixed on the fields they passed. The air silent, except for the noises of the vehicles.

Watery hazel eyes stayed on the passing fields, pain and misery shining in them. Consuming them. Entirely unaware of the grey eyes that observed her. Cold grey eyes watching her through the rear view mirror. Always watching her.

* * *

Octavia moaned as she stretched her limbs by the Jeep, the aches and knots in her body disappearing instantly. They had stopped in the middle of the highway two hours earlier than anticipated, their path blocked by a sea of cars. Abandoned cars, presumably from when the plague hit Britain. Two lanes, completely covered in cars.

Noticing the Vipers finish their private conversation, Octavia walked over to the abandoned cars to join the group. She jumped up onto the boot of a sedan, sitting as she waited patiently as Theo and Crabbe climbed on top of the hood of the Jeep. The cloudy sky above them, rumbling warningly.

"Listen up!" Theo's booming voice thundered around the cars, gaining the attention of the group. "We are stopping here for a few hours to rest and refuel the vehicles. Breakfast will be served in an hour. Until then, we need everyone to search the cars that're blocking us. Bring anything that you find back here, to the base, in bulk. Things like flashlights, medicines, food, water, batteries, canisters of petrol and diesel, and so on. Uses your head people!"

"If you find anything," Crabbe's voice commanded, "that could be considered recreational, you _will_ bring it back to the inventory trucks. Is that understood?"

A murmur spread through the crowd, people nodding their heads to indicate they understood. Octavia just watched. She wasn't going to agree. If she found chocolate or crisps, you could bet your sweet ass she would eat it.

"After each car is cleared," Crabbe continued in a thunderous authoritative tone, "put the car in 'neutral' and roll it off the highway, down the hill. If we work efficiently and as a team, we should be back on the road within two hours."

"Nobody is to venture off the highway without permission from one of the Vipers, and don't wander out of eye-sight either," Theo ordered. "We need everyone to abide by the rules, and work fast if we are to make it to the next town before nightfall. A storm is approaching so we will take refuge in the town of Salisbury, four hundred miles out. Now get moving!"

The group of survivors mumbled and chatted amongst themselves, evidently pleased at the prospect of spending the night in the buildings of the next town. Octavia had to admit, she shared their relief. The thought of spending another night cramped up in a car was hardly appealing. And she was lucky to be assigned to the luxurious Jeep, unlike most of the other survivors who were stuffed into sedans and Utes. So she could understand their enthusiasm as she watched them spread out amongst the sea of cars, following their instructions straightaway.

Octavia sighed as she jumped off the boot of the abandoned car, making her way to the cars further down the highway. She wanted to be away from the others as much as possible during the next few hours. She needed time to herself. Desperately. So she weaved her way through the countless vehicles, not stopping until she was a considerable distance away, only surrounded by a handful of the other survivors. Runners, she thinks. They seemed to have the same idea as her. It gave her comfort. A slight sense of comfort, knowing that she wasn't the only one to have trouble adapting to being around people all of the time. Maybe they had been alone for a long time, like her? How long had they been with the group, she wondered. Perhaps only a few weeks. Perhaps months. Maybe once you'd been alone for such a long time, you would always struggle being around others. It would never be easy for you again. She hoped not.

It was too difficult. It gave her anxiety at times. Not knowing what to say, how to act. When to smile, when to sympathise. A strange thing. Not knowing how to interact with others. Especially for her. She would have considered herself to be somewhat of a social butterfly before the end of the world. Octavia always strived to be perfect in the eyes of others. She was by far the most popular girl at her school. Something that she once considered to be very important to her, and a monumental achievement. It was her life. To be liked and loved. To be the 'it' girl that everyone wanted to be friends with. But now she wanted to slink into the shadows and go unnoticed. It was easier that way. When everyone died. You didn't feel as much pain. Not like you would if you cared for them. So she kept to herself, and she kept quiet.

To protect herself.

From the pain.

* * *

Draco sneered at her, causing her to grit her teeth. She knew she couldn't make a show of defiance without pissing him off, but it took all her strength to not slap him again like she did in third year.

"Remind me, Blaise," Draco snarled, "why we allow Granger to lead the Research Team, when she's clearly incapable."

"I'm not incapable," Hermione hissed, slamming her hand on the car hood. "I just haven't discovered anything new. I gave you a lead last week, and that led us to the Book of the Damned. It takes time to translate ancient ruins, you know."

Draco went to respond, and from the look on his face it wasn't pleasantries. But the alarm cut him off. A patronus. A hippogriff soared right passed them, circling the area a few times before moving on to the wandering members of the group, warning them of what was coming. A herd.

"Fuck," Blaise hissed, grabbing Hermione by the arm and yanking her to the ground. "Get under there now." He hissed at her, shoving her under a rusted sedan.

Blaise stood and opened the car door, hauling out the corpses from the backseat. He threw them on the ground placing them around the car, shielding Hermione and ensuring her scent was completely masked from the walkers, before crawling under the car to join her.

"My sister," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Draco's taking care of it," he responded quietly, attaching the silencer to his gun. "Be quiet."

She nodded, trying to steady her harsh breaths, closing her eyes to calm herself. Her heart pounded against her chest as she lay next to Blaise, fear coursing through her veins. But not for her. She knew she was safe, and she was good fighter. Not only that, she had Blaise Zabini next to her, so she wasn't concerned for her own safety. She was concerned about Octavia.

"Hey," Blaise whispered, nudging her arm lightly.

She blinked back the tears as she turned to face him, their noses almost touching. She shivered slightly as she felt his breath brush over her face. A good shiver. But she ignored it. Like she always ignored the feelings he stirred in her.

"She will be alright," Blaise assured quietly, his eyes softened a tiny fraction.

Hermione frowned at him briefly before nodding. Her body tensed, however, as she heard them. They were here. A lot of them.

The herd.

* * *

Draco didn't hesitate before sprinting off at a run, watching others scurry and hide from the approaching herd. But he didn't care about them. He knew the Guards would be laying low on top of the inventory trucks, snipers ready to go if need be. But again, he didn't care. For once, he didn't care about the safety of the group. About the mission.

His heart pounded as he ran and weaved through the cars, searching for blonde ringlets. Panic devouring him. He knew she had wandered off down the highway. And he let her. He watched her go. Letting her. Like an idiot. He knew he should have stopped her, but he let her go, seeing that a couple of Runners went that way too. He assumed she would be safe around them. But now … now that it was happening. Now that a herd approached them. He needed to be sure. He needed to make sure she was safe. He didn't trust her to do it alone. To protect herself.

When he had first saw her on the road six days ago, she was so weak. Close to death. Fragile. Pathetic. He soon learned that she was always weak and fragile. Vulnerable. But she hid it. Or tried to at least. He saw it. Despite her best efforts to hide it. He saw it. He saw everything. She was weak and vulnerable. He couldn't trust her to protect herself. She was hopeless.

Fuck, she infuriated him. Thinking she was strong and powerful. Thinking she could survive without the group. Outside of the walls. Without their protection. Without _him_.

He knew. He knew what she was behind the mask. A little girl pretending. Playing dress-up and pretending to be a warrior. When she was not. She was just a girl. Hiding behind a mask.

A frightened little muggle.

* * *

Grunting, Octavia leaned over the bag of knives in the backseat, trying to reach the bars of chocolate on the floor. She frowned as her fingertips brushed against the pile, almost but not quite. Just a little farther. A whooshing sound came from behind her, startling her. Hurriedly, Octavia shimmied backwards out of the car to identify the noise, scratching her forearm on one of the protruding knives beneath her. Gasping, Octavia clenched her eyes shut from the pain shooting through her arm, blood pouring out of the wound as she crumbled to the harsh ground of the highway.

Groaning, Octavia clutched her injured arm to her chest, her eyes scanning the area for whatever had made that noise. Her eyes widened in disbelief as a cloudy white creature soared passed her, circling the area a few times before soaring off down the highway toward the rest of the group. The creature was strange, resembling a horse sort of. But with the head and neck of an eagle, and chicken-like feet. It had wings too, adding to its peculiarity. She assumed it was magic of some kind, considering the creature wasn't actually real. It appeared to be more of a _shadow_ , but white and cloudy. Very odd.

But Octavia wasn't concerned about the strange appearance of a shadow creature. Her thoughts were focused on the gaping cut on her forearm, throbbing with pain. She would need stitches, for sure. Tears filled her eyes as she gritted her teeth, standing up and leaning against the car. Her eyes scanned the area again, this time searching for a fellow member of the group. She saw nobody. Nobody. Not a single soul.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she squinted her eyes, trying to see down the highway. Trying to see the group by the 'base'. She saw no one. Oh no.

No, no, no, no.

She saw someone. Or several someones. Or, more accurately, several things that used to be someones.

The undead. A herd of them. Swarming the trucks and cars of her group. But she didn't see her group. Not a single member. Only the herd of walkers headed straight her way. She whimpered as she stumbled across to the larger cars, hiding behind an abandoned, rusted caravan, clutching her bleeding arm to her chest still.

Normally in situations like this, she would hide under the car, or under a blanket _in_ a car. But she couldn't. They would smell her. The blood on her arm. They would smell it. She had to wrap it in something. She had to find a jumper or something to wrap it with. It would help mask the smell somewhat. Allowing her to hide, hopefully going unnoticed.

She could hear them now. She could hear their dreadful moans and gurgles. They were near.

She was in trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco ran down the highway, weaving between the cars, glancing through the windows of the abandoned vehicles as he went. His heart pounded relentlessly against his ribcage, panic surging through him in crippling waves. A feeling he was not accustomed to. Fear. But his eyes were determined and radiating anger. He was livid. At that stupid bint for wandering off. At himself for allowing it.

He focused on his anger, the only feeling in his heart that was familiar to him. The only feeling that made sense to him. Ignoring the fear and anxiety. But it was all washed away in one sweep when he spotted those stupid curls.

Those blonde ringlets he was so fond of. The hair he wanted to bury his face into. The hair he wanted to grip onto as he … No. Focus. Get yourself together.

Relief replaced his frenzied emotions, all except his anger. He was still furious. With her. With himself. But mainly her. For being such a moron. For being a fool. Arrogant little muggle. Stupid bint.

Crawling down the highway, blood dripping down her arm. He could have sworn she was shaking. Out of fear, most likely. He almost felt smug at the thought. He knew it. He knew she was just a scared little muggle. Hiding behind her faux bravery. Fool.

* * *

Octavia crawled down the edge of the left lane hastily, trying to stay low and out of sight from the approaching walkers. Her heart was pounding so violently against her chest, she could hear it vibrate through her body. Ringing in her ears.

She bit back the groan of pain as she reached through an open car door, snatching a small blue blanket from a baby car seat. A car seat spattered with blood. She grimaced. She couldn't think about what that meant. Not now. Not ever. It was too horrid.

Wrapping the blanket around her bleeding forearm, she panted as she continued to crawl away from the approaching herd. Going too slow. Much too slow. She could hear them. They were only a few cars away, she guessed. About five or six. Not much. Too close. She would die.

Nerves wracked her body causing her to tremble as she fought her fear. The fear coursing through her veins from her impending doom. She cried out as she felt a body press against her back firmly, strong arms wrapping around her.

"Shut up," a threatening growl came from behind her.

She recognised the voice.

Her eyes fluttered closed in relief as he yanked her up, hauling her over his shoulder as he ran further down the highway, stopping after a few minutes at a rusted sedan. She heard a slam and a creak before she was tossed into the boot of the car, quite indelicately. She grunted from the impact. He climbed on top of her, pulling the trunk door closed, placing his thumb between the latches so they wouldn't be locked inside. Only hidden. But not trapped.

Feeling his breath brush over her face lightly, she opened her eyes cautiously. He wasn't looking at her. His molten grey eyes were fixed on the miniscule gap between the trunk and the trunk door. Watching as rotting bodies stumbled passed them. So many walkers. They bumped into the car as they passed, the sedan rocking back and forth from the impact.

His body pressed down on hers, holding her in place. Not that she could go anywhere. Nor could he, really. The trunk was small. So he lay on top of her, his right arm leaning beside her head, supporting his weight, his other hand gripped onto the trunk door.

Harsh breathing filled the silence, escaping from her parted plump lips. The fear still dancing around her. Her body trembling slightly. But it wasn't just the fear of the walkers. It was him. His eyes. Turning to meet hers.

They were no longer cold and steely like they normally were. They were molten silver, radiating anger. Directed right at her. She shrunk back under his heated gaze, but he did not soften. His jaw was clenched, his fierce eyes penetrating her hazel orbs. Her body trembling beneath his.

She was sure he was exercising control. Barely. She knew he wanted to scream at her. Berate her. Like a child. His furious eyes told her as much. But he couldn't. The walkers would hear.

Clutching her injured arm to her chest, her cautious, fear-filled eyes looked up at him. Again, like always, he did not soften. If anything, he looked even angrier than before. His upper lip curling in distaste. His breath brushing against her face softly. Her frantic gasps brushing against his unsympathetic face. Their noses touching. Sending shivers down her spine.

The growls and moans of the walkers penetrated the thick silence around them, her heart pounding in her chest. So harshly, she was sure he could feel it against his own chest that pressed against hers. Her injured arm, trapped between them. The scent of her blood, muffled and masked by their bodies and the blanket. Going unnoticed by the passing herd.

Tears fell from eyes as a terrible scream tore through the silence from outside the safety of the trunk. A woman. Her bottom lip trembled, hearing the woman beg for help, crying as the herd got her. Eating her. A quiet sob escaped her lips, her body shaking beneath his.

"Be quiet," he hissed at her venomously, his fierce eyes still penetrating her hazel orbs.

Her eyes and mouth snapped shut instantly, trying to ignore the pained gurgles of the dying woman. Pretending it wasn't real. Like she usually did. Pretending it was all just a movie. A horror movie. Her favourite genre, before the apocalypse. But it wasn't her favourite anymore. Not now that she lived it every day. Now she hated horror. And she hated the world. The death and misery of the barren world. But she was selfish and weak. So she didn't try to help the woman. She never tried to help.

She was a selfish, pathetic little girl.

So selfish.

* * *

Blaise's eyes flickered to the bushy haired girl beside him. Her jaw was set, her eyes shut tight. He could see her heart beating against her chest. But she remained strong. Showing no fear. He almost admired her for it. Appreciating her strength. Knowing that the only fear she felt was for her sister. Not for herself.

Blaise knew that Hermione Granger, Ms. Fucking-Know-It-All, infuriating him constantly. He struggled to not hex her at times. Settling for glowers and snarls instead. Sometimes he just wanted to shove her into a herd of walkers. She pissed him off that much. With her stubbornness and arrogance. Thinking she was so brilliant. But she was right. She was brilliant. Her brains and brawn were above reproach. And her beauty.

Not that he would admit that. It took him five years to admit it to himself. Let alone to her. So he would daydream about hexing and cursing her when he was angry. But he would never do it. He knew he wouldn't. And he knew why.

* * *

Octavia scowled as Malfoy yanked her down the highway, back to the base. His grip on her uninjured arm was bruising to say the least.

Grimacing from the pain in both her arms, Octavia stumbled behind Malfoy as he dragged her toward the base, her eyes spotting a frantic and nervous Hermione by the front Jeep. Malfoy continued to drag her forcefully toward the Jeep, despite her struggles to keep up.

They approached the base and Octavia couldn't help but notice Blaise's eyes were fixed on her concerned sister as he sat on the hood of the Jeep, hands clasped between his legs as he leaned forward slightly. Forcing a smile on her face, Octavia locked eyes with her sister.

"O!" Hermione sobbed in relief, running toward her desperately.

Octavia grunted as Hermione crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her securely, Malfoy letting her arm go as though her skin burned him.

"I was so worried." Hermione sobbed quietly, her face buried in her dirty, dishevelled blonde ringlets.

"I'm ok," Octavia sighed, wrapping her good arm around her sister.

"Get the healer," Malfoy barked at a nearby muggle woman causing her to flinch slightly.

The woman didn't hesitate before running off toward the caravan to retrieve the head of the medical team. Hermione pulled back from Octavia, releasing her from her hold. Her brown eyes searched Octavia for any signs of injury, her eyes spotting and resting on the bloodied fabric wrapped around her forearm.

"It's nothing," Octavia smiled reassuringly, lying through her teeth.

The cut was deep and long, bleeding freely, pain throbbing through her limb relentlessly. But her sister didn't need to know that.

"What happened?" Hermione asked quietly, concern shining in her brown eyes.

"Cut myself on a knife," Octavia shrugged. "Some weird cloudy creature thing gave me a fright and I cut myself by accident."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "That's my fault, I'm so sorry, O."

"It's nobody's fault," Octavia scoffed.

"I didn't tell you about the alarm," Hermione sighed in defeat, placing her hand on her forehead. "It's my fault."

"I would've gotten a fright either way," Octavia shrugged. "It came from behind me and it was the noise that startled me, not the sight of it. Don't work yourself up."

Hermione went to respond, but the healer approached them carrying a bag of medical supplies. Malfoy shoved Octavia toward the Jeep, as Blaise jumped off the hood, walking away.

"Get up," Malfoy barked at her, ordering her to sit on the hood of the car.

She obeyed, thinning her lips slightly. He was just so rude. The healer placed the bag of supplies next to her on the hood of the Jeep, before turning her attention to Octavia's wound.

"You are to stay here," Malfoy seethed at her, his tone commanding. "Do not wander off again, is that understood?"

Octavia merely nodded in response, not meeting his fierce eyes. Despite agreeing to his order, Octavia felt a little disappointed. She was planning on heading back up the highway to get the chocolate before anyone else spotted it. Now that plan was out the window. Thanks to King Wanker. His Majesty Prat. No. Nothing had the same ring to it as 'General Fuckwit'. She would stick with that.

She allowed herself to glower at the back of his head, watching him march off toward Blaise. Hermione gave her a sympathetic look as the healer tended to her arm.

"You will need stitches," the healer advised, cleaning the cut with a damp cloth.

Octavia only hummed in response. She kind of guessed that.

"Did you hear the screams?" Octavia asked quietly, her eyes averted from her loitering sister.

"Yes," Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Who was it?" Octavia asked, hoping it was someone she hadn't conversed with yet. Hoping it wasn't Ginny or Pansy, knowing she had grown fond of them somewhat.

"A muggle woman," Hermione sighed. "One of Malfoy's girls."

Octavia frowned at that. It implied a sense of ownership. When he certainly didn't own anyone. Although he sure acted like he did. He acted like he owned everyone. Disgusting.

"I doubt he'd be too cut up about it," Octavia spat, her eyes harsh.

Hermione thinned her lips, her wide brown eyes on her sister.

"You need to be careful how you speak about him," Hermione warned, inclining her head to the healer who was listening intently. "You're already on his radar, and I don't think that's a good thing, O."

"I'm trying to lay low," Octavia frowned. "It's not my fault he saw me trying to hide."

"He went to find you," Hermione sighed. "He didn't just see you."

"Why the fuck would he do that?" Octavia hissed. "He hates me."

"I don't doubt that he does," Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't know why he went looking for you, but just … stay away from him. He doesn't treat people well when they piss him off."

"What's he gonna do?" Octavia scoffed. "Banish me?"

"Maybe," Hermione thinned her lips. "He's done it before."

Octavia's face fell at her sisters words. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be kicked out from the group. But she didn't want to stay either. She was conflicted. To stay meant to be kept safe, fed and provided shelter. But it made her feel like herself again. Vulnerable and … emotional. It wasn't something she wanted for herself in this world. She wanted her mask back. But it was fading. Cracking.

The more time she spent around these people, socialising with the girls, her sister, the more she felt herself change. Back to herself. It wasn't a good thing. Not for her in this world. But she wasn't keen on being banished either. And she had no doubt in her mind that he would do it. He hated her.

She needed to lay low. She had to stay off his radar.

* * *

Hermione laughed as Octavia stumbled out of the Jeep, half asleep.

"Fuck off," Octavia grumbled, steadying herself.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned before she took in her surroundings. They were in the town of Sailsbury as the sun was setting, the sky rumbling above them threateningly. The storm was approaching them. Fast.

Thankfully they had made it to the deserted town before the storm hit. If the dark and heavy clouds were anything to go by, the storm would be violent, the rain unforgiving. So Octavia and the rest of the group were relieved, to say the least, when the Runners and Vipers exited the library they were parked in front of, motioning them into the shelter.

Octavia watched as the group poured into the cleared library, carrying pillows and blankets in their arms. She waited behind with Hermione to help unload the cars of overnight supplies they would need, like food and ammo. But Malfoy approached the Granger twins, glowering at them threateningly.

"Get inside!" He barked at them, causing Octavia to flinch.

Hermione sighed before stalking off into the building, Octavia scurrying behind her, not sparing a glance at General Fuckwit.

She followed her bushy-haired sister toward the rest of the group, seating themselves in front of a large shelf filled with dusty, forgotten books. It was mere moments before Ginny, Pansy and Astoria spotted them, strolling over to join them.

Leaning back against the hard bookshelf, Octavia brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as the girls sat around her, immediately delving into a discussion about the herd they encountered on the highway.

"You guys alright?" Ginny asked as she tossed a few chocolate bars on the floor.

"We're ok," Hermione nodded, picking up a Twix. "Octavia got hurt though."

"Not badly," Octavia quickly reassured the girls, noticing Pansy and Ginny's concerned expressions. She also noticed Astoria's slight smirk. Bitch. "Just a scratch and not from a walker."

"Oh," Pansy sighed, evidently relieved. Octavia smiled at this.

"How'd you cut it?" Ginny asked, eyeing the pile of chocolate, assessing the various brands.

"On a knife," Octavia shrugged. "The alarm gave me a fright."

"Been there," Ginny nodded, snatching a Freddo bar from the pile.

"Where'd you guys hide out?" Pansy asked, opening her bar of chocolate.

"I was in the caravan the whole time," Astoria explained as she nibbled on her mars bar.

"What about you?" Ginny asked a quiet Octavia.

"Further down the highway," she shrugged lightly. "Hid in the trunk of a car."

"Good thinking," Pansy nodded in approval.

Octavia merely nodded in response, opting to leave the part about Malfoy out. Especially choosing to ignore the questioning glances from her sister sat across from her.

"Hermione?" Astoria prompted.

"Under a car with Zabini," Hermione answered nonchalantly.

"Did you hear the screams?" Pansy asked.

The Granger twins nodded in unison, but neither speaking.

"Apparently it was that Lucy girl," Pansy continued, her voice quiet.

"Malfoy's girl," Ginny added.

"Well, one of them," Pansy smirked.

"I overheard Theo tell Adrian that she was practically in pieces when he went to take care of her," Ginny explained.

"Take care of her?" Octavia frowned.

Hermione nodded. "We try not to let our own people turn. Not if we can help it."

Octavia hummed in response. She knew from experience what it was like to watch people in your group turn into one of the dead. So she approved of their methods. It was an act of mercy they could afford to give.

"She was only nineteen, the poor thing," Hermione grimaced.

"He doesn't seem bothered, really." Octavia pursed her lips, her eyes on Malfoy across the room.

The girls turned to follow her gaze, seeing Malfoy lean against a bookshelf, deep in conversation with Blaise and Theo. He looked interested in what they were saying, no sign of grief on his stoic face. The girls turned back to face Octavia, some of them thinning their lips, Astoria looking like she hadn't a care in the world.

"Probably because he doesn't care," Astoria shrugged indifferently.

"How can you just be ok with that?" Octavia stared at the girl incredulously. "He's been _inside_ of her, yet he doesn't bat an eye when she dies. Nobody cares."

"Her brother cares," Astoria offered lamely, inclining her head to the sobbing man in the corner of the room.

"Malfoy is too concerned with the mission to concern himself with the muggles," Pansy explained.

"Not 'muggles'," Ginny hastily corrected her tactless friend upon seeing Octavia's hurt expression.

"No," Pansy agreed. "Just … the home-makers, you know? He sees them as expendable, I guess. Even when he's 'intimate' with them, it's just a transaction to him."

"So he doesn't feel for the girls he fucks at all?" Octavia asked with raised eyebrows, disbelief and offense in her eyes.

"Not really, no." Ginny shook her head lightly. "Like Pansy said, to him it's just a transaction. He doesn't feel for them at all. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even know her name."

"That's fucked up," Octavia scoffed.

"He saved Octavia," Astoria added nonchalantly. "At least that's the rumour."

"Did he?" Ginny gaped at her.

"I guess," Octavia shrugged lazily.

"Oh," Ginny said, at a loss for words.

"I wouldn't read too much into that," Astoria smirked. "It's only because of your connected to Hermione."

"He's probably going to assign you to a high-ranking position," Pansy mused aloud. "So you're important to the group in his eyes. That's why he saved you I think."

Octavia brightened up a little at her words. She hoped Pansy was right. She wanted a high-ranking position in the group, and it wasn't unlikely now that she thought about it. He saved her and she was assigned to the front Jeep, but he obviously hated her guts. So it had to be because of her position in the group. Or the position she will be assigned to once they set up camp again. Relief flutter inside of her. She was pleased.

Octavia's eyes flickered to the Vipers as an attractive brunette approached Blaise. She watched as they exchanged a few words before walking off through the library, disappearing out of sight as they weaved through the maze of shelves. Octavia could almost feel her sister's body tensing, but when she flickered her eyes to Hermione she saw her sister cool as ever, playing with the empty chocolate wrapper. But Octavia saw it. In her sister's eyes. Hurt? Jealousy?

How very interesting.

"Do all of the Vipers treat women like that?" Octavia asked casually, gauging her sister's reaction. Hermione's lips thinned. Gotcha.

"Blaise is one of the good ones," Pansy laughed. "He treats his paramours well."

"Hardly 'well'," Ginny scoffed. "Just the best out of the lot of them."

"True," Pansy agreed. "He's cordial with them and gives them treats sometimes."

"Gross," Octavia frowned. "They get treated like objects only to be given chocolate and that makes it all ok."

"Draco's the worst," Astoria smirked. "He doesn't even participate."

"What do you mean?" Octavia asked curiously. She had heard the girls mention his lack of participation before, but she didn't understand what they meant by it.

"He just watches them," Ginny yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "While they ride him or suck him off."

"How would you even know that?" Octavia furrowed her brows.

"Astoria's been one of his girls, haven't you?" Pansy winked at the blonde pure-blood.

"Years ago," Astoria waved her hand dismissively. "At Hogwarts, before the apocalypse."

"So he's always been that way?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yeah," Pansy nodded. "He's always cold and distant, even when he's fucking someone."

"Sounds like he's not the one that does the fucking," Octavia scoffed.

Pansy and Ginny laughed at her words, Astoria scowling slightly.

"Excuse me," Astoria spoke, standing abruptly and walking off toward Snape.

The girls didn't seem to mind Astoria's departure, but Octavia felt it was out of annoyance.

"What happened between her and Malfoy?" Octavia asked lightly, hiding her eagerness for the gossip.

"They were betrothed," Pansy sighed. "But Draco had a bit of a wandering eye."

"So she was trying to keep him interested in her?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Pansy nodded. "Didn't work out. He entertained her for a few weeks, among other girls, before he became bored."

"Ah," Octavia nodded, understanding.

Octavia finally understood the witch's apparent dislike for her. She was territorial of Malfoy, even though she had no right to be. And she certainly didn't have to feel that way with Octavia. Malfoy hated her guts, so there was no need for her to mark her territory. Settle down, bitch.

* * *

Octavia yawned beside her preoccupied sister, stretching her arms leisurely. Her heavy eyelids threatened to close on her, but she was reluctant to fall asleep. It was late and most of the group slumbered, but Octavia knew that her dreams would be memories. Horrid memories. Triggered by their encounter with the herd earlier that day. So she fought off sleep, sitting by her busy sister quietly.

Hermione and Astoria had been working on translating weird symbols in a big, old, crappy book for hours now. So Octavia was beyond bored. And she was hungry. But it was late and she had already eaten dinner. The members of the group that were awake, however, were snacking on tins of beans and the occasional chocolate bar. It hardly helped Octavia's hunger. She glared at them occasionally.

Her body stiffened as Malfoy and Blaise approached them, Malfoy's eyes on the book between her sister and Astoria. She glowered at the Vipers as they knelt before them. The Vipers didn't notice her scathing stare. Their eyes were on her sister.

"Anything new?" Blaise asked, his eyes flickering between the two members of the research team.

"Not really," Hermione sighed. "We're trying to translate this paragraph but it's difficult. There's more than one language used in the first sentence alone."

"Have you identified the languages?" Malfoy asked, his tone icy.

"Three of them," Astoria answered, smiling at him. He didn't return the smile.

"How many different dialects are used?" Blaise asked, his eyes on Hermione.

Octavia smirked slyly. I know your secret.

"From what we can tell," Hermione sighed, "around seven."

"Keep working on it," Blaise ordered, his tone firm. "You are to identify all languages used by sunrise."

"You're kidding, right?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, her mouth agape. "That will take all night, we won't get any sleep at all."

"Do I sound like I am 'kidding'?" Blaise drawled, his eyes cold.

Octavia smirked again. He was trying too hard. Masking his feelings with indifference. But she saw through it. You can't fool me, Italian Prat!

"We'll need food," Astoria whined, her voice making Octavia shiver slightly. "We're already getting hungry. If we are to concentrate, we have to eat."

Malfoy nodded once to indicate his approval, his jaw set slightly. Malfoy stood and walked to the guards, grabbing a few cans from the box of supplies. Octavia averted her gaze as he approached them, his penetrating grey eyes on her. He tossed the cans of mixed fruit at Hermione and Astoria before handing Octavia a tin of peaches.

Her eyes widened slightly as he held out the can to her, her hazel eyes timidly looking up to meet his cold stare. She bit her bottom lip as she reached out her hands hesitantly, taking the can from his grasp, his fierce gaze unwavering.

"She doesn't need that," Astoria chimed in, sounding a little put out. "She isn't helping us."

Octavia shot the pureblood girl a scathing glare, Blaise and Hermione's questioning eyes on her. Malfoy ignored the girl's complaint, turning and stalking back to the sleeping Vipers across the room, Blaise at his heels.

"Well that was weird," Hermione frowned, eyeing Octavia suspiciously. "You didn't trade with him, did you?"

"No," Octavia grimaced, eyeing the tinned fruit in her hands.

It hadn't escaped her notice that she got tinned peaches while Hermione and Astoria got a can of mixed fruit. But she couldn't fathom why. Why had she received the better fruit? Why had he even given her food at all? She wasn't a part of the research team, and she wasn't helping them. So why did he give her the tin?

"Right," Astoria scoffed. "Because Malfoy just gives out treats to anyone around."

"I didn't fucking trade with him," Octavia hissed at the girl.

"He probably just assumed you were helping us," Hermione suggested uncertainly.

"I told him she wasn't though," Astoria smirked, clearly believing that Octavia had sex with or blew Malfoy for some _peaches._ Disgusting and downright ridiculous.

"Well," Hermione sighed. "He probably didn't want to seem like he was listening to you, Astoria. So he ignored you. Malfoy and his pride."

Octavia furrowed her brow in perfect unison with Astoria. That was total bullshit. It barely made sense, and was a lame excuse. But Octavia didn't care. She shrugged before she dug into her can of peaches, unaware of the grey eyes watching her intently. She didn't care why General Fuckwit gave her the peaches, she was just glad to have them. And hopefully, stay off his radar. He didn't seem angry with her, just cold. So perhaps she was doing a good job of laying low so far. In the fifteen hours since he saved her. Not likely. But whatever the reason he gave her the tin of fruit, she was just glad to have them. Sucking the juices from the peaches before finishing it off. With each peach. Entirely unaware of the grey eyes watching her. Fixed on her lips as she sucked the peaches softly. Watching her tongue as it flicked over her lips, lapping up the juices. The grey eyes that watched her.

* * *

Octavia wiggled out from underneath the blanket, careful not to wake her sister. It was quite late and almost the entire group was asleep, minus her, Theo and a couple of guards. Her mind was humming with thoughts of the herd they encountered earlier that day. After much tossing and turning, she gave up on the hope of getting some sleep, opting to wander the library instead. She would look for a copy of her favourite novel, knowing it would be there somewhere. _Pride and Prejudice_ was a widely popular novel, so Octavia didn't doubt that she would find a copy. But she would search for a dictionary too. Octavia understood the premise of the book – watching the film adaptation certainly helped her with that – but she struggled with the words at times. Normally Octavia would feel embarrassed consulting a dictionary to understand a book, but essentially everybody was asleep, so nobody would notice her blatant stupidity much to her relief.

Grabbing a dictionary from the shelf, Octavia made her way to the adjacent romance section, scuffling her feet as she went.

Her fingers grazed over the spines of the dusty books, resting on the copy of her favourite novel. She grabbed it and turned to walk back to the group, but a noise caught her attention. A groan. A groan so quiet, she almost didn't hear it. Her curiosity peaked instantly, as she slowly stepped around the bookshelf, moving closer toward the source of the noise. Approaching a bookshelf, she was sure to keep her movements slow and silent, not bringing attention to herself. She leaned up on her tip-toes, peaking through the gap between two hardback novels, biting her lip at what she saw.

Malfoy sat reclined in a chair, legs spread as a girl knelt before him. A blonde girl with wavy hair, her head bobbing up and down, making slurping noises. What was her name again? Paula? Pauline? Francesca? Who knew! Octavia certainly didn't. And she doubted Malfoy did either. But he sure didn't seem to mind not knowing her name. He only needed to know her mouth, it appeared.

Octavia knew she should slink away, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the peculiar scene before her. Malfoy's eyes were fixed on the girl … or her hair, actually. Her blonde wavy hair. But he looked cool and composed as ever. No flush on his face, no heavy breathing, no sign of pleasure. Nothing. Sitting there like a statue. His hands resting on the sides of the chair.

His eyes closed slowly, his head leaning back as his body tensed. A quiet groan escaped his lips, his eyes tight shut. Octavia couldn't help but scold herself. For continuing to watch, like a pervert. And for the tingling sensation at her core. The excitement that coursed through her when he came.

Almost as soon as he'd cum, Malfoy shoved the girl away from him, standing up, zipping up his trousers swiftly. But not before Octavia caught a glimpse of his manhood. She blushed at the sight and her own perversity, turning and scurrying back toward the sleeping group with her books. Successfully going unnoticed by Malfoy and the girl.

Ignoring the ache in her core, Octavia slumped down beside her sister's sleeping form, hurriedly opening the novel in her hand, after discarding the dictionary by her bag. She wouldn't consult the dictionary. Not when Malfoy was awake. He would notice it. And his cold eyes would mock her. Noticing her stupidity. His eyes ridiculing her for it. Not that she cared or anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Octavia rested on the hood of the Jeep with Hermione, her eyes closed and tuning Astoria's relentless chatter out. The group was all packed and ready to go, travelling to their destination. But much to the annoyance of the impatient group of survivors, the Vipers and drivers huddled around the back of the Jeep consulting a map and conversing quietly. Laying on her back, her legs dangling off the edge of the hood, Octavia placed her forearm over her eyes shielding herself from the sun.

"Hey," Hermione greeted Ginny as she approached them, the Vipers and drivers dispersing.

"Hey," Ginny sighed.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked.

"We had to plan out an alternative route."

"Why?" Astoria asked as Pansy approached them.

"To avoid the highways," Pansy explained, stretching leisurely. "So we don't encounter the same problems as we did yesterday."

"How long will it take us to reach Fort Williams now?" Hermione sighed, evidently annoyed.

"A few days," Ginny answered, thinning her lips. "We should be leaving soon."

"How soon?" Astoria whined much to Octavia's annoyance. That girl's voice grated on her like nothing else.

"Ten minutes," Pansy answered tiredly.

"Great," Hermione sighed.

"We could play a game," Octavia suggested. "To pass the time."

"A muggle game?" Astoria scrunched her face up. "No thanks."

Octavia glared at the girl, but Astoria didn't waver.

"I'll play," Pansy smiled.

"I'm in," Ginny nodded.

"What's the game?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't have a name, I don't think." Octavia shrugged. "It's just three questions. You're not allowed to answer the questions referring to family. That's the only rule."

"Where'd you learn the game?" Hermione pressed.

"A guy," Octavia shrugged. _Nyle_.

"There's always a guy," Pansy smirked, her eyes flickering between Octavia and an approaching Malfoy, Blaise by his side.

But the men stayed back slightly. Close enough to hear the girls but not close enough to gain their attention. Pansy continued to smirk. They were far too obvious.

"Ready?" Octavia asked, the girls nodding and humming in response, except a glowering Astoria of course. "If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Pumpkin pasties." Ginny answered quickly.

Octavia scrunched her face up. Ew. Sounded gross.

"Mum's Sunday roast," Hermione answered wistfully.

"No family," Octavia scolded, kicking her sister on the leg.

"Ow," Hermione whined. "Fine. Any Sunday roast."

"Dragon steak tartare," Pansy answered.

"Octavia?" Pansy prompted.

"Cheese," Octavia smiled. "Any kind of cheese."

"Mm," Pansy hummed. "Brie cheese. Now that's something I'd kill for."

"Astoria?" Ginny prompted the quiet girl.

"This game is stupid," Astoria scowled.

"Then don't play," Octavia hissed at her.

Astoria shot her a scathing glare before stomping away, causing Octavia to roll her eyes.

"If you could do anything right now, what would you do?" Octavia asked the second question. She loved playing this game with Nyle, so she was glad that she wasn't sharing the game with Astoria. The girl didn't deserve a piece of her happiness.

"See a movie at the cinema," Hermione smiled.

"Play Quidditch," Ginny answered sadly "at the Burrow."

"Go clubbing," Pansy grinned at the thought.

"Have a shower," Octavia answered her own question robotically.

It was always her answer and would remain that way until she had a shower. She was sick and tired of using baby wipes to keep clean, occasionally washing in a lake or quarry. Which indecently only traded your sweaty stench for a murky, mossy aroma. Hardly any better, in her opinion. Plus her skin always felt a little slimy after bathing in a lake.

The girls hummed in approval of her answer.

"If you could have anything right now, what would it be?" Octavia asked the third and final question absentmindedly. Her thoughts on Nyle's answer that never changed. _You_.

"A samurai sword," Ginny grinned. "That'd be cool."

Octavia laughed at her answer. She could just imagine Ginny tearing through a herd of walkers, the long Japanese sword in hand, her red hair swirling around as she sliced through them.

"My wand," Pansy nodded, her eyes glistening with longing.

"The Medallion," Hermione answered firmly.

"Good answer," Ginny agreed. "Octavia?"

"A vibrator," Octavia grinned, causing the others to burst into laughter.

"I take my answer back," Ginny laughed. "A vibrator would be great."

"Agreed," Hermione laughed.

"Perhaps keep your focus on the mission," Blaise's cold voice penetrated the girl's laughter, causing them to immediately falter.

Hermione and Octavia blushed harshly as they turned to face the side of the Jeep, Blaise and Malfoy standing tall, staring at them coolly. Octavia cleared her throat, shimmying off the hood of the Jeep, utterly mortified under Malfoy's intense stare directed straight at her.

"We're just playing a game," Hermione sighed, sliding off the car, refusing to meet Blaise's penetrating eyes.

"Wasting time on a silly game, when you could be translating the ruins," Malfoy seethed, his cold eyes still on Octavia. Though she refused to look at him, averting her eyes to her combat boots that shuffled on the ground nervously.

"OI!" Theo yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth, his booming voice echoing through the area, catching the attention of the group. "WE'RE LEAVING! GET IN YOUR VEHICLES NOW!"

Octavia sighed as she followed Hermione to the door of the Jeep, waving a quick goodbye to Ginny and Pansy. She noticed they appeared just as annoyed as she was at Blaise and Malfoy's rude interruption and scolding of their fun.

Sighing, Octavia climbed into the Jeep, Malfoy slamming the door behind her. She scowled as she grabbed her bag from the floor, rummaging through it quickly, pulling out a long silver locket. She placed it around her neck as Blaise and Malfoy jumped into the Jeep, the car roaring to life, followed by the other vehicles. Clasping the locket pendent in her hand she leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes as she remembered the man who gave her the necklace. As she recalled the first time he ever played the game with her. When he was alive. When she had him.

Her Nyle.

* * *

 _"_ _If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?" Nyle asked, wrapping his arms around her, his chest pressed against her back._

 _They sat facing the roaring campfire, her head leaned back against him as he rested his chin atop her loose curls. In his arms, watching her father across the camp circle, talking to a pretty woman. She smiled._

 _"_ _A Big Mac," she answered, her fingers running up and down his bare arms, warm from the heat of the fire before them. "You?"_

 _"_ _Fish and chips," Nyle grinned. "With a bucket load of gravy."_

 _"_ _Nice," Octavia nodded, her mouth salivating at the thought._

 _"_ _If you could do anything right now, what would you do?" Nyle asked, nuzzling his face against her curls, holding her tightly._

 _"_ _Easy," Octavia laughed. "Have a hot shower."_

 _"_ _Mm," Nyle purred. "With me?"_

 _"_ _Behave," Octavia giggled as he grinned widely. "You?"_

 _"_ _Take you out for dinner," Nyle smiled. "A proper date."_

 _"_ _Would you dress up for me?" Octavia smiled. "In a suit, looking all fancy?"_

 _"_ _I'd wear whatever you wanted me to," he grinned. "As long as you ripped the clothes off me at the end of the night."_

 _"_ _You're headed straight for that," Octavia teased._

 _She couldn't see his face, but she would bet everything she had that he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. And she would be right._

 _"_ _If you could have anything right now, what would it be?" He asked, his voice thick with desire._

 _"_ _Hmm," Octavia tried to think, distracted by the growing erection pressed against her back. Her core instantly tingling in response. "The best orgasm of my life. Are you up to the challenge?"_

 _Octavia bit her lip as he nudged his hard shaft against her back._

 _"_ _Who am I to deny you of anything?" He teased, his voice muffled by her array of ringlets._

 _"_ _What's your answer?" Octavia asked, her eyes fluttering shut at the excitement coursing through her. "What would you have if you could have anything?"_

 _"_ _You." He answered firmly. "I would have you."_

 _They both knew what he meant. Yes, she and Nyle were intimate. Practically since she and her father had first joined the group. Their attraction was instant. Their chemistry was great. But they knew that's not what he meant. He didn't mean her body. He meant her heart. Her love._

 _Her._

* * *

Sitting in the car alone as the group stopped for a toilet break, Octavia quickly took out her picture of Nyle, her eyes straining to take in every detail. It was dark now and she was tired, but she forced her weary eyes to focus on Nyle's face. His chiselled jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his dark skin. So handsome. So beautiful. So sexy. Or he used to be. Now he wasn't. Now he was dead.

* * *

 _A moan escaped her parted lips as she ground her hips against him, his cock swirling inside of her, stretching her walls. His hands rested on her thighs, his sparkling blue eyes fixed on her flushed face, watching the pleasure flicker over her features. Watching as she bit her lip, trying to be quiet so they weren't heard. Tents didn't offer much privacy._

 _Her head lolled back as she repeated the movement, his cock grinding inside of her, her slick walls clamping down on his cock. Nyle tightened his grip on her thighs, bucking his hips upwards, encouraging her to ride him._

 _Her chest rose and fell as she swayed her hips leisurely before quickening the pace. Harsh pants and moans filled the hot tent, their bodies clammy with sweat. Her full and perky breasts bounced slightly, her curls mirroring the action, as she slammed up and down on his cock._

 _Her brows furrowed as she felt him tense beneath her, his cum shooting into her warmth. She quickened her pace, her finger dancing over her clit as she rode him, eager to reach her own climax before he went limp inside of her. It always took longer for her to cum than for him. And he hadn't much stamina when she rode him._

 _He panted and groaned beneath her, his body assaulted by the aftershocks of his orgasm, trying to remain hard for her as she rode him. Her moans and keening noises filling the air around them, her hips bucking frantically._

 _His fingers gripped her nipples, pulling and tweaking them harshly, knowing it would send her over the edge she danced around. It was enough. Just._

 _Her back arched as a sweet groan escaped her lips, her cunt quivering and clamping down on his wilting cock, before slumping down on his chest. The orgasm was satisfying. As it always was with Nyle. But not the best of her life. The best was only when she did it herself. But it didn't matter. It was enough. Enough to make her come back for more. Or was that his eyes?_

* * *

A single tear slid down her cheek, her wide hazel eyes glistening. She didn't wipe the tear away, she merely fixed her attention on the photograph. Drinking in everything about Nyle's face. Every detail. Down to the creases at the sides of his mouth. His laugh lines. She liked them. He was older than her, almost a decade older, so he had some wrinkles and creases, but not a lot. And she was fond of them anyway. They only added to his attractiveness. Nyle appeared to be one of those men than only grew more handsome as the years went on. She would consider him to be one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.

But that was many years ago now. Five to be exact. If he had lived, he would have been thirty-three to her age of twenty-five. She wondered if he would look much different. She doubted it. But maybe she looked different? Well, she knew she looked different. Starvation and depression did that to you. But would he still find her attractive now? She had lost weight, even in her face. Perhaps he wouldn't think her so pretty anymore. If he saw her now. Sitting in the Jeep, her hairs tied in a loose bun at the top of her head. Loose tendrils framing her face. Her lips still plump, but her breasts were small now. Her body, slimmer. Perhaps he wouldn't like it.

Malfoy climbed into the driver seat of the Jeep, his jaw clenched, his eyes cold. She didn't notice. Her eyes were fixed on the polaroid of Nyle. She didn't notice as Malfoy's hand clutched onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white from the strength of his grip. She didn't notice his fierce grey eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror. But even if she did notice, she wouldn't have seen the jealousy in his molten grey orbs. She only would have seen the anger. The anger that appeared to be reserved just for her.

* * *

 _"Hey," a handsome black man approached her. "New girl!"_

 _"Yeah?" Octavia responded, her eyes scanning his beautiful face. His gorgeous eyes. Blue._

 _"We're going on a run for a few days," he smiled at her. "Wanna come?"_

 _"Can I?" She lit up instantly. She had been stuck at the camp for only two days but she was bored out of her damn mind._

 _"Sure," he grinned, handing her a fully loaded gun. "Just don't get me killed."_

 _She laughed as she took the gun from his hand, their fingers touching lightly._

 _"I promise," she smiled at him. Unaware that she would break that promise. Eventually._

* * *

"Who's that?" Hermione asked, her eyes on the picture Octavia held in her hands.

"Nyle," Octavia smiled sadly, her eyes fixed on his blue orbs.

"The 'special' guy?" Hermione asked, remembering their conversation the previous morning.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, her hazel-eyes never leaving the photograph.

"He's … wow," Hermione gaped at the picture.

"I know," Octavia grinned proudly.

"He didn't make it?" Hermione asked, knowing the answer already.

"No." Octavia thinned her lips.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said sadly, placing her hand on her shoulder.

Octavia grunted lightly, stuffing the picture back in her bag. Molten grey eyes boiling with anger and jealousy, watching her through the rear-view mirror.

"I'm hungry," Octavia sighed, changing the topic swiftly.

"When can we eat?" Hermione leaned forward, asking Blaise.

Blaise didn't respond. He exchanged quiet words with Malfoy before grabbing two cans of food from the bag at his feet. He turned and handed one of them to Hermione, Octavia noticing how he went out of his way to brush his fingers against her sisters. 'Accidently'. Octavia smirked.

But her smirk quickly fell when Blaise tossed back the other can at her, hitting her on the shoulder with it. Again. She frowned as she snatched the can, her nose scrunching up in disgust at the label. Beans. A can of beans. Cold beans. Disgusting.

It didn't escape her notice either that Hermione got a can of mandarin oranges. She glared at her sister. Bitch.

Pouting, Octavia tossed the canned beans into her bag. She was nowhere near hungry enough to stomach them, so she would wait.

That's when it hit her.

A week ago, she would have been overjoyed at finding tinned beans and wouldn't hesitate before scoffing them down. Now she turned up her nose at the food. Disappointed that she didn't get fruit or something better.

She was reverting back to herself. Vulnerable and expectant. Waiting for someone to feed her, preferably delicious food. Doting around, expecting people to protect her. Not caring that she didn't have her weapons anymore. Looking at her picture of Nyle in front of others. Answering questions about him. Talking about him.

She was getting too comfortable. She was growing accustomed to being a part of a group again. It wasn't a good thing. Definitely not a good thing.

* * *

Yawning ungracefully, Octavia stretched her limbs. She sighed as she slumped back against the backseat, her legs draping over the side of the Jeep door. They had stopped in a small country town for a toilet break and to refill supplies, scavenging from the nearby buildings.

Octavia smirked, her head resting on her sister's lap. She noticed Hermione's unsuccessful attempts of hiding her frequent glances at Blaise Zabini.

"Should we get out and help load the new supplies to the inventory trucks?" Octavia asked, wiggling her toes over the side of the Jeep.

"Malfoy said to stay here," Hermione shook her head.

"Hm," Octavia hummed, watching her toes wiggle.

"Why do you want to help anyway?" Hermione furrowed her brows, eyeing his sister suspiciously.

"I think they found chocolate," Octavia narrowed her eyes. "I want it."

"Malfoy would flip if you stole from the supplies." Hermione sighed, annoyed with her sister's incessant disregard for the rules.

"Only if he found out," Octavia smirked.

"You wonder why he doesn't like you," Hermione spat, evidently frustrated.

Octavia thinned her lips but didn't respond.

"TEN MINUTES!" Crabbe's voice sounded out. "WE LEAVE IN TEN MINUTES PEOPLE!"

"I better go to the toilet," Hermione sighed, nudging her sister to remove her head from her lap.

Octavia grumbled as she sat up, pulling her legs back inside the vehicle.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Hermione warned.

"Me?" Octavia widened her eyes, playing innocent.

"Just stay in the car," Hermione clipped, Octavia merely nodding in response.

Casting one final warning glance at her sister, Hermione turned and climbed out of the Jeep, headed for the guards to get an escort. Octavia frowned. It was downright ridiculous that you had to be escorted to pee. Or poop! It was embarrassing. Something that should totally be private. But of course the Vipers ordered that every unarmed member of the group needed to be escorted to the toilet as a safety precaution. Octavia wasn't pleased about it, but thankfully, Ginny went with her thirty minutes ago. Although it was awkward. Octavia seemed to suffer from performance anxiety. Oh well.

She glowered as Malfoy approached the vehicle, only stopping a metre or so away. He wasn't doing anything. He just turned his back to the Jeep. Octavia frowned. Weirdo.

Perhaps … maybe … she could ask for a weapon? She promised Hermione she would stay in the car. She mightn't have to break that promise given Malfoy was loitering around the Jeep. And if she had a weapon, she could go to the toilet in private. The mere thought of private toilet sessions convinced her. It was worth being berated for.

Leaning over the door of the car, Octavia grunted as she grabbed Malfoy's black t-shirt, yanking it slightly to garner his attention. She slumped back into the car as he turned to face her, his eyes alight with indignation.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just wanted to know if I could have a weapon now."

He didn't respond. He stepped forward slowly, closing the distance between him and the car door. His molten grey eyes trapping her hazel orbs in a gaze. She swallowed as he approached her, placing his arms on the car door, leaning forward gradually. His face nearing hers.

"Why?" He asked coolly, his face like stone, his eyes on fire.

"We're out in the open," she answered quietly, her heart beating a little faster. Ok, a lot faster. But it could be worth it. If he gave her a weapon, that is.

"We have guards," he clipped, his heated grey eyes never leaving hers. Anger swimming in the grey orbs.

She clenched her jaw, turning her nose up in the air at him, looking quite snooty. But she was going for confidence. Oh well.

"I would feel better with a weapon," she said firmly. Or so she intended to speak firmly. Her voice shook slightly. She hoped he didn't notice. But of course he did. He always noticed.

"Would you now?" He asked, his eyes boring into hers fiercely. "Isn't that lovely."

Biting her lip, she blinked at him, unsure of how to respond.

"I have denied your request once before," he growled, his face inching closer to hers. "I am denying it a second time. Let's hope you are not foolish enough to ask a third time."

Averting her watering eyes from his furious stare, Octavia pouted slightly. She didn't want to know what would happen if she asked again. So she wouldn't. The warning fury in his eyes and his threatening tone made sure of that.

"Anything else, _your_ _majesty_?" Malfoy hissed venomously, his breath brushing against her face.

"No," she whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Her head bowed down, her loose curls falling to curtain the sides of her face. Her eyes watering as he kept his proximity, anger radiating off him. She almost began to tremble with anxiety, but much to her relief, he pushed himself away from the Jeep abruptly, stalking off. A shaky breath escaped her parted lips, relief washing over her at his departure. She had no idea what it was about him, but he made her feel so miniscule, insignificant and plain stupid. She hated him.

* * *

Blaise frowned as he watched Draco lean against the Jeep door, conversing with the blonde Granger twin. She was annoying. Blaise didn't like her much. But Draco did. Blaise knew this. That's why Draco allowed her to speak to him in front of the group, approaching him like he was just another survivor. But Blaise noticed his friend's stiff body. He was angry at the mudblood girl. He usually was though. Yet he indulged her anyway.

Sighing, Blaise tossed the Jeep's supply bag at the home-maker by the inventory boxes they had scavenged from the small town they stopped at. She immediately began to fill the bag with food and water.

Draco approached him, his molten grey eyes livid.

"What did she want this time?" Blaise asked, eyeing his friend warily.

"A weapon," Draco clipped, his eyes furious.

Blaise nodded, his eyes flickering to the muggle in the Jeep.

"Judging by the childish pouts and huffs she's doing right now," Blaise raised his eyebrows. "I suppose you denied her request."

"You suppose correctly," Draco drawled, watching as a home-maker – the one that blew him the previous night – gathered some tins of food from the inventory truck, placing them in the supply bag.

"Take the peaches out." Draco ordered the woman, noticing she was placing tinned peaches into his bag.

"Yes, General Malfoy," the woman nodded. "My apologies, I was told you requested them for your vehicle."

"It would appear I have changed my mind," Draco snarled at her. The woman paled slightly, but did as she was told.

"Annoyed with your muggle?" Blaise smirked, eyes on the Jeep as book-worm Granger climbed in, joining her stroppy sister. "The Granger girl."

Draco clenched his jaw, but didn't respond.

"Because she asked for weapons?" Blaise continued. "Or because she hasn't offered to trade with you?"

Draco's upper lip twitched, threatening to turn into a snarl.

"Why don't you just do it?" Blaise sighed. "Offer her a trade."

"I will not provide her with weapons," Draco growled.

"If it makes her feel safer and stops her from pissing you off, you might as well just give her a knife," Blaise frowned, watching as the Granger twins conversed in the back of the Jeep.

"If she has weapons," Draco growled, "she will think it appropriate to fight. It will encourage her."

"Draco," Blaise shook his head. "You need to find something to trade with her. You need to fuck her and be done with it."

Draco didn't respond, but his body stiffened slightly, his eyes on the bag the home-maker was filling with water and foods.

"That's why you stopped giving her the peaches?" Blaise asked, his eyes flickering between his friend and the supply bag. "So she'd trade you for them?"

"No." He clipped, his tone harsh and threatening.

"Then why are you giving her soups and beans now?" Blaise asked. "What changed?"

"She is ungrateful," Draco growled.

"It's because she was looking at that picture, right?" Blaise pressed. "And wearing the locket."

"Perhaps," Draco snarled at his friend. "Does it matter?"

"Not to me," Blaise shrugged. "I don't care what you feed the mudblood."

"Then why ask?" Draco snarled at him.

Blaise shrugged elegantly, his eyes on the bushy Granger girl in the Jeep. She was blushing and her hair frizzed. He fought off a smile. It clicked. He knew.

"You want her to need you," Blaise spoke firmly, his eyes on the Granger girls. "That's why you won't give her a weapon."

Draco didn't respond. He grabbed the full bag from the blonde home-maker before stalking off toward the Jeep. Blaise followed him, headed for the driver's seat. A slight smirk on his lips. Draco knew that Blaise was correct in his observation. Blaise could use his friend's cruel and cold nature to his advantage. With the bushy-haired Granger girl. When the time came.

If Blaise played the situation to his favour, Hermione would come to him. In time.

To trade.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, climbing into the Jeep.

"Dandy," Octavia spat, arms crossed over her chest.

"I was gone for five minutes," Hermione sighed. "What've you done?"

"What?" Octavia widened her eyes innocently. "I didn't do anything! Malfoy did!"

"Jesus," Hermione sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "What happened now?"

"I asked for weapons," Octavia mumbled, shrugging lightly.

"What the fuck!" Hermione hissed at her. "I told you to stay off his radar! And I told you stay in the car!"

"I just asked," Octavia rolled her eyes. "No need to overreact. And I didn't leave the car."

"Do you want to be exiled?" Hermione seethed. "Is that it? Do you keep pestering him so he'll banish you?"

"Of course not," Octavia pouted. "I just asked and, as always, he was a fucking prat about it."

"Stop annoying him, O." Hermione ordered firmly. "Just stay away from him."

"Whatever," Octavia pursed her lips.

"They're looking over here," Hermione sighed. "Congratulations, O. Hope you're happy with yourself."

"Shut up," Octavia hissed, before glancing in the direction of Blaise and Malfoy. "Only Blaise is looking over here. And he's looking at you, not me."

"No he's not," Hermione shook her head.

"Yeah he is," Octavia rolled her eyes. "Like always."

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.

"He's got it bad for you," Octavia shrugged casually.

"You're ridiculous," Hermione scoffed.

"And you're in denial," Octavia smirked at her sister.

"He doesn't like me."

"Sure thing," Octavia nodded. "Just like you don't like him."

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened, a slight blush spreading across her face.

"You like him," Octavia rolled her eyes. "Don't deny it. And he likes you."

"You're crazy."

"Whatever," Octavia shrugged. "That's why I'm getting cold beans and you're getting canned fruit. Because Blaise _doesn't_ like you. Makes perfect sense."

Hermione blushed profusely.

"You're getting cold beans," Hermione hissed. "Because you keep pissing off Malfoy."

"Fuck him," Octavia shrugged. "He's a prat."

"A prat that's in charge." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Remember that."

Octavia went to respond but Hermione's warning eyes told her that Blaise and Malfoy were approaching the Jeep.

* * *

Ginny stifled a yawn as she drove the fourth vehicle, directly behind Marcus and Adrian's Jeep. Her eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror, Astoria's sleeping form in the reflection. Pansy snacked on a packet of crisps in the passenger seat, deep in thought.

"Have you noticed how he looks at her?" Pansy spoke quietly so as not to wake Astoria.

"Who?" Ginny answered mechanically, currently running on auto-pilot from lack of sleep. But she didn't sleep much these days anyway. Nobody did.

"Draco," Pansy sighed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And Octavia."

Ginny frowned, her eyes on the gravelly road. "What are you talking about?"

"Draco watches her constantly," Pansy explained, annoyance lacing her tone. "He's always watching her and he's always standing near her."

"She's in the front Jeep," Ginny shrugged. "They both were standing by it. It doesn't mean anything."

"You haven't noticed?" Pansy frowned at the red-head. "Since he brought her to camp, he's kept her within eye-sight most of the time. Like I said, he's always watching her. And he's only using his blonde girls now."

"He likes blondes," Ginny shrugged. "It has nothing to do with Octavia."

"It has everything to do with her," Pansy smirked.

"He hates her," Ginny scoffed. "He's always rude to her, knowing he's intimidating her but he does it anyway."

"So?" Pansy frowned.

"So you don't treat a girl like that when you like her," Ginny shook her head. "You don't go out of your way to frighten and berate her."

"Haven't you ever heard of boys being mean to girls they like?" Pansy smirked.

"Malfoy's a man," Ginny sighed. "Not a boy."

"He is a man," Pansy nodded. "A man that doesn't know how to show his feelings."

"So he bullies her?"

"Yes." Pansy nodded, as though Malfoy's treatment of Octavia was entirely excusable.

"I'm not buying it." Ginny scoffed. "Malfoy doesn't feel for anyone. He didn't even cry when his parents died."

"How would you know that?" Pansy frowned at the red-headed Gryffindor.

"I was there in Dumbledore's office," Ginny sighed. "When he floo'd back from the Manor. Blood on his robes, but his face was … as it always is. Impassive. Emotionless."

"I'm not surprised," Pansy shrugged.

"That he didn't cry?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Pansy nodded. "But it doesn't mean he doesn't feel for Octavia."

"I think you're losing your mind," Ginny scoffed.

"Just … look out for it." Pansy smirked. "You'll see."

Ginny shook her head but didn't respond. There was no way Malfoy could care about anyone, hardly even himself. He was always running out on missions, only focused on finding the Medallion. It was probably the only reason he remained in survival mode. To rebuild the world under his rule. For the power.

Yes. That's the only thing Malfoy cared about. Power.

Right?

* * *

Octavia folded her legs in front of her, tying her hair up into a bun. They had been driving for a while and she was bored out of her damn mind. She wanted to read the novel she took from the library, _Pride and Prejudice_. But it was dark outside and she wasn't prepared to ask Malfoy for a flashlight. So she just put up with her boredom. Sighing and squirming in her seat a lot. Much to the obvious annoyance of Hermione.

Octavia scowled. Hermione got a flashlight. Yes, to translate Ancient Ruins, but still. It annoyed her. Bitch.

"Can we eat dinner?" Hermione asked, stifling a yawn. "I'm starving."

Octavia rolled her eyes. It annoyed her that she used the word 'starving'. Octavia had literally almost starved to death before. Many times throughout the years. So she felt it wasn't right for others to say it. Well, anyone except her really.

Malfoy didn't respond. He snatched the bag from the ground, as he sat in the passenger seat, rummaging through the contents. Hermione smiled as he tossed back a tin of fruit and a chocolate bar. Octavia knew he was providing her with sugar to keep her energy levels up, increasing her focus on the ancient book. But she allowed herself to hope he would give her a chocolate bar too, just to be fair.

She furrowed her brows as Malfoy threw the bag back on the floor, not handing any food back to her. Her eyes turned to Hermione who gave her a pointed look. _That's what happens when you piss him off_. Octavia blinked at her sister before turning to face out of the window, keeping silent.

Ignoring the hunger in her stomach. But she couldn't stop her eyes from watering as she stared out of the window. Her Malfoy tolerance was wavering. She was cracking under his torment. But she wouldn't let him know that.

So she kept her hurt eyes fixed on the window as her lip trembled slightly. Ignoring the sounds of Hermione eating, ignoring the smell of the fruit, completely oblivious to the cold eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror.


	8. Chapter 8

"Fuck," Blaise growled, his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the rear-view mirror.

"What?" Malfoy hissed, annoyed to be awoken from his slumber as he slouched in the passenger seat.

Octavia rubbed her eyes groggily, turning her weary attention to the Vipers in the front of the Jeep.

"Theo and Crabbe," Blaise growled. "They're flashing us."

Octavia fought off a giggle as she turned in her seat to witness the scene. Her eyes locked onto the Jeep behind them, but quickly discovered that 'flashing' meant they were flickering their high-beams to catch their attention. Oh. Octavia pouted before slumping back in her seat.

Malfoy snatched open the glove-box, grabbing a walkie talkie before switching it on.

"What?" Malfoy barked into the radio device, the crackling sound of the static waking Hermione up.

"The second inventory truck has steam coming out from the bonnet," Theo's tired voice came through the radio. "It's still moving but it won't last for long."

Malfoy sighed before sharing a look with Blaise.

"Eight miles," Blaise said, evidently answering a silent question from Malfoy.

"The next town is eight miles out," Malfoy spoke into the radio device. "We'll stop there."

"Copy that," Theo responded.

Hermione groaned in annoyance, evidently displeased at the further delay in them reaching Fort Williams. But Octavia grinned. She could use the break to try and steal food from the inventory trucks. Or the supply bag in the Jeep.

She was pleased.

* * *

Octavia wandered around the vehicles, the small town becoming visible to her weary eyes as dawn approached them. She was in dire need of a toilet break, but refused to be escorted by one of the guards, so she aimlessly wandered around, in hopes of finding Pansy or Ginny. It was the least amount of dreadful to go to the toilet in front of them. But she would much rather have a weapon than publically urinate. Gross.

Her expressionless face quickly gave way to a glower as she spotted Astoria a few metres ahead of her. Astoria returned the look. Bitch.

Before she could darken her glare at the girl a scream caught her attention. Her blood ran cold. Her body froze. Panic soured through her. It was happening.

"WALKERS!" A booming voice sounded through the area, followed by the soaring of a hippogriff. The alarm.

* * *

Blaise frowned as he watched Hermione Granger peek through the grimy glass of a grocery store, absentmindedly listening to Theo speak.

"We could use that truck," Theo mused, inclining his head to a dusty white van parked on the side of the road. "One of the fixers can hotwire it if we can't find the keys."

"It's too small," Adrian answered, his eyes scanning the van.

"It'll hold what we have in the second inventory truck," Theo shrugged.

"We can use it for now," Crabbe mused. "Until we come across a bigger truck."

"You!" Malfoy barked, catching the attention of a nearby muggle man.

The man hesitated briefly before approaching the stoic Vipers, trying – and failing – to keep the apprehension from showing on his face.

"General Malfoy," the man acknowledged shakily as he approached them.

"Check that van," Malfoy pointed to the white vehicle across from them. "See if it has the keys inside. If it doesn't, hotwire it."

"Yes, sir." The man nodded firmly, before making his way back to his group.

Blaise watched as the muggle Fixer and two other men made their way over to the van. Malfoy's eyes scanning the area for the muggle girl. She had wandered out of sight, he noticed with a scowl. He took his eyes off her for a minute, and she escaped him.

"She went that way," Theo pointed toward the broken down inventory truck down the street, knowing instantly who his friend was looking for.

Malfoy turned to storm off in the direction Theo motioned to, but froze as a scream ripped through the air. He turned around swiftly, his eyes locating the source of the cry immediately.

The van. The muggles had opened the backdoors of the van. Walkers piling out of the vehicle. About forty. Perhaps the van wasn't so small after all.

"WALKERS!" Crabbe roared, a nearby Guard swishing his wand, his patronus instantly souring through the area.

Malfoy turned and ran down the street, the familiar sensation of fear clutching at his heart. Fear and fury.

* * *

Blaise grabbed his gun from the holster on his thigh, breaking out into a run, headed straight for the panicked bushy-haired girl by the grocery store. As he ran, he raised and aimed his gun, shooting the walkers that stumbled toward her, some moving faster than others.

The group scattered and screamed, not knowing where to go or what to do. The walkers were around them, not approaching them. So they couldn't hide under or in cars. Not now that the walkers had seen them. Eyes locked as they attacked. Terrible screams piercing the early morning air as walkers ripped flesh apart.

Blaise crashed into Hermione, his arm wrapping around her waist as he continued to fire at the nearby walkers, yanking her away with him. He kicked the door of the grocery store several times, handing Hermione a gun before pushing her inside.

"IN HERE!" He shouted, nearby survivors running toward him and safety as he continued to shoot the approaching undead.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Octavia grunted as she tripped over, landing harshly on her knees, scraping and bruising the skin. But she didn't feel it. Not really. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, distracting her. Encouraging her to keep moving. So she did.

Scrambling to her feet she ran toward the inventory trucks, the Guards herding nearby survivors to the abandoned pharmacy to the right, shooting and stabbing the walkers that approached them. She panted as she ran toward them, her thoughts focused on retrieving a weapon from the trucks. She needed a weapon. Before she could reach the trucks, she collided with a walker that emerged from between two of their vehicles.

Her heart stopped as lay on the ground next to the walker, the breath knocked right out of her lungs from the impact of the fall. Her attention was brought straight back to life, however, as the walker's dead and rotten hands grabbed at her, its mouth snapping at her hungrily.

She squealed and cried out as she pushed at it, kicking her legs out wildly as it crawled on top of her trying to bite at her face desperately. Her hands gripped onto its rotten throat, her fingers pushing through the skin as she tried to fight it off of her. She gagged as her fingers slipped right through the mushy skin, feeling the gooey insides of its throat, the walker not faltering in the slightest. It continued to snap ferociously, only missing her nose by an inch. An inch away from taking her life.

Her heart pounded against her chest, her breathing frantic, broken up by sobs and whimpers. A cry came from behind her but she barely heard it. She was focused solely on pushing the walker off of her. But she was tired and weak from not eating. And the walker was determined to devour her.

If Malfoy wasn't such a wanker and gave her a weapon, she would have killed the walker by now. She would be safe. Well … she would have an advantage. But now, because of him, she was vulnerable. And about to die.

About to be eaten alive by this walker. It's foul breath brushing over her face. Its blackened teeth snapping at her face. Nearing her. Getting closer. As its weight above her made her arms shake in exertion. Tears streaming down her face.

The scream near her became louder. More desperate. Much like her own. Only hers was mixed with sobs. Her head tilted back slightly, her eyes locating the source of the ear-piercing scream. Astoria. In the exact same position as she.

Well. Looks like we both die together.

Octavia almost scoffed at the thought. But at least she wouldn't die alone.

* * *

Hermione fumbled with the gun in her hands, flicking the safety off shakily. Her heart pounded as she swiftly ran through the aisles, checking for walkers as part of the group stumbled into the building, Blaise by the doors.

Satisfied that the area was walker-free she ran back toward Blaise as he shut the doors, tapping his wand against the lock, ensuring their safety. They only used magic when they really had to, and this was one of those times.

"All clear," she breathed, trying to calm her shaky nerves.

She had a really close call. If it weren't for Blaise … well … she didn't want to think about what could have happened. What _would_ have happened.

Blaise nodded once, not meeting her eyes.

"Everyone, listen up," Blaise called firmly. "Nobody make a fucking noise, is that understood? Sit down and shut up while we wait it out. Stay away from the windows. In fact, everyone go to the back of the store, and stay fucking quiet."

The group of ten or so survivors nodded before following his orders silently. No body making a peep. Hermione included. Blaise at her heels.

* * *

Octavia cried out as another walker stumbled toward her, pinned down by the hungry walker above her. Now she was definitely screwed.

"Draco!" Astoria's voice cried out, but Octavia barely heard it.

Her heart pounded so violently, she could hear it in her eardrums. Deafening her.

"DRACO!" Astoria shouted again, her voice desperate. "HELP ME!"

She didn't hear the bounding footsteps coming from Astoria's direction. Headed straight for her.

Octavia sobbed as the second walker lunged at her, its fingers gripped onto her hair as it pulled itself closer to her. She cried out from the pain. The agony. The fear.

"NOOOO!" Astoria shrieked, before her voice turned to a loud and pained gurgle.

Octavia whimpered and sobbed as she tried to heave the walker off of her, the second walker closing in on her. On its food.

"ARGH!" She cried out violently, the second walker lunging to bite her face. It's mouth open near her cheek. Its teeth grazing against the skin. But it didn't bite down.

A loud bang echoed through the area. A gunshot. And the walker stopped moving. Its mouth open around her cheek, damp from her tears.

She grunted as a second bang sounded, deafening her, the walker above her, crashing down on her harshly. Knocking the air from her lungs. But no longer trying to eat her.

She saw black combat boots by her head as the walker was yanked from her body. She panted and whimpered as she looked up. Draco Malfoy standing above her, spattered in blood, his eyes furious and … _concerned_? No. What a silly thought.

He growled as he grabbed her arms, pulling her up to her feet. She almost felt relief at being saved yet again by General Fuckwit.

But she didn't. For she heard them. The walkers and screams of dying people.

Gurgles and groans approached them quickly, walkers finding them.

Coming for them.

* * *

"Move," Malfoy growled, the grip on her arm tightening painfully.

She stumbled beside him as they ran down the street, his vice-like grip on her forearm yanking her along. His other arm outstretched as he fired his gun at nearing walkers, his aim flawless.

She grimaced as they rushed passed Astoria's lifeless body, blood on her face, spilling out of her agape mouth. No throat. Fighting back tears, Octavia struggled to keep up with Malfoy as he led her through the chaos. Screams attacking her ears.

Octavia frowned as he wrenched her toward a metal door. She had assumed they would rescue other survivors. But he removed his hand from her forearm, waving it in front of the lock on the metal door. His gun was raised as he kicked the door open, eyeing the area. Apparently satisfied, he shoved Octavia inside of the building before following her, closing the door silently behind them.

It was pitch black inside of the room, so she remained perfectly still, Malfoy's muscular body only a centimetre from hers. Hearing him breathe steadily. A light appeared before her in the distance, travelling down the long, narrow room, before stopping at another door.

Malfoy walked passed her, his shoulder smacking into her as he did so. She scowled at him, but scurried to keep up with his swift pace. Fidgeting with her filthy hands in front of her, she watched as Malfoy kicked open the door before entering. She stayed in the corridor. Waiting for him to clear the room.

"Get in here!" he barked after a few moments, causing her to wince slightly.

Not hesitating, she scurried into the room, closing the door behind her. Hazel doe-eyes scanned the small room, flickering passed Malfoy several times. The room appeared to be an office. There was a desk, a cabinet and a few chairs, but not much else. Her eyes flickered back to Malfoy as he stood by the window for a moment, looking out, before closing the curtains.

His eyes didn't meet hers as he grabbed a blazer from a coat rack, tossing it at her unceremoniously.

"Clean your hands." He ordered, moving to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

She thinned her lips as she did as he said. She was grateful for the blazer, given her hands were covered in slime and blood from the walker's throat.

"My sister," Octavia whispered, tossing the dirtied blazer on the ground, her fearful eyes meeting his.

He didn't speak. He only stared at her.

"Did you see her?" She asked quietly, moving to approach the window.

Again, he remained silent. Watching her but not responding. His eyes alight with fury.

Sighing, she moved the curtain to the side, her pained eyes looking out to the scene before her. Walkers layering the street, so many of their group dead. A yelp escaped her lips as Malfoy shoved her forcefully away from the window, closing the curtain again.

"Do you want the walkers to see you?" He hissed at her as she balked.

She didn't respond. She turned and walked over to the desk, jumping up and sitting on it instead. Her thoughts on her sister. Hoping she made it. Hoping she was alive.

"She is safe," Malfoy's cold voice spoke after a few moments.

Octavia turned her teary eyes to his cold orbs.

"Blaise went after her," Malfoy assured. Although he wasn't certain as he ran off to find Octavia. But he assumed Blaise had gone to save his mudblood. Much like he did.

"Thanks," she whispered, giving him a watery smile before laying down on the desk.

He didn't respond. They remained in silence for a while, the screams from the street making her nauseous.

"How did you make the light appear?" Octavia asked softly, laying on her side atop the wooden desk. Her eyes on Malfoy's tall, muscular figure. Trying to distract herself from the horrid noises coming from outside. "In the corridor."

His grey eyes regarded her for a moment before he spoke.

"Magic." He answered patronisingly.

She frowned at him. "You didn't say anything and you don't have a wand."

"I do not need a wand, nor do I need to utter the spell." He spoke coldly, his fierce eyes penetrating hers.

"Oh," Octavia thinned her lips under his intense gaze.

They remained in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked.

"Did you try and save Astoria?" She asked timidly, aware that she was bothering him with her questions. But she had to distract herself from the screams.

He didn't respond. His jaw clenched as he stared at her, his eyes warning.

Her watery eyes pulled from his threatening gaze, focusing on the carpet instead.

"No." He answered firmly after a while. Still watching her.

She didn't look to see if he was watching her still, she just knew. She felt it.

Octavia opted to remain quiet. Any further questions would surely send him over the edge. So she sighed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come for her. To take her away from Malfoy's intense stare. Even if only for a moment.

* * *

"I hope Octavia's safe," Hermione whispered quietly, breaking the silence between her and Blaise.

Blaise turned to look at her, his cold eyes assessing her pained expression.

"I have no doubt that she is safe," Blaise responded quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione frowned, her voice a whisper. "You came straight to this building."

Blaise's eyes darkened slightly. _Straight to this building_. No. I came straight to you.

"Draco went looking for her," Blaise clipped firmly.

His eyes did not soften as she turned her face to his, her eyes suspicious and hopeful.

"You're certain?" She asked quietly.

"Yes." He snipped, his eyes narrowing. You doubt me? Bitch.

"Why?" Hermione frowned. "Why would he go looking for her?"

Blaise's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. _The same reason I went to you._

"She is important to you." Blaise snarled. "And you are important to the group and the mission."

"So he saves her so I don't lose _focus_?" Hermione spat, her eyes livid.

"Would you rather he left her to die?" Blaise sneered at her.

"No," she whispered, composing herself. It would do her no good to piss off the Viper.

"Then what is the issue?" Blaise hissed, evidently annoyed with her.

"There is none," she shook her head.

Blaise raised his chin as he regarded her, sensing her uneasiness at upsetting him. He didn't like that she feared him. But it came with the job, really. He supposed he could comfort her. But that would show his intentions. That would reveal himself to her. Expose himself. No. He couldn't do that. But he would remain beside her. Away from the other survivors. Sit quietly beside her as her mind buzzed incessantly. It was the only comfort he could offer her at this point.

* * *

Draco leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets as he watched her. She slept atop the desk in the corner of the room, snoring lightly. A little drool on the side of her mouth. Her curls curtaining her face, shielding her beauty from his gaze. He frowned. Kicking himself from the wall, he moved toward her slowly. Questioning his actions but continuing all the same. He stopped as he approached the desk, his eyes scanning her body. Lingering on her chest that rose and fell with each steady breath.

Tentatively, he raised his hand, his fingers softly brushing her curls from her face. Her cheeks blotchy. Presumably from the cries and sobs before he rescued her. From the silent tears she shed after he saved her life and brought her here to safety. He didn't like it when she cried. But he wasn't sure how to stop it. Or why she cried. Perhaps out of fear for her sister? Perhaps she wanted to die? He wasn't sure. People in his world – his old world – didn't cry. But this muggle did. Often. Perhaps it was a pureblood thing? To not cry? To not show your emotions? To hide your weaknesses? Maybe. He wished the muggle would do that at times. Only when she cried. It bothered him. At times he wanted to make it stop for _her_. But when she cried over that picture, he needed it to stop for _him_. It did something to him when she looked at that picture. When she cried over her lost lover. It made him, not just angry, but furious. He wanted to hurt her when she did that. He wanted to make her cry more. But out of fear. Fear of him.

He composed himself. He was becoming angry again. Just from thinking about her missing her deceased lover. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. Then he did what he usually did. His go-to calming elixir. He imagined her longing for him like she longed for the man in the photograph. His heart fluttered. It worked every time. He opened his cold eyes slowly, fixing them onto her pretty face again.

His long index finger trailed down her jawline slowly. Her face was dirty. He didn't mind. Carefully, he trailed his finger across her plump pink lips. They were so pretty. So inviting. They felt soft. Warm. He smirked fleetingly as his finger wiped away the trickle of drool from the corner of her lips. He resumed his ministrations. His eyes fixed on her lips as he caressed them. Wanting to taste them. It bothered him. He never wanted to kiss a woman. But he wanted to kiss her. Her lips looked so plump and delicious. They would look amazing wrapped around his cock.

He groaned as his trousers tightened at the thought. He moved his other hand to the bulge in his pants, rubbing his engorged cock once to relieve him of the ache. She licked her lips and squirmed slightly. Still deep in sleep.

What are you dreaming about mudblood?

Probably food, he mused. Considering he denied her of food through the night. It was her own fault, though. She angered him. But he allowed himself to imagine her dreams were plagued by him. His cock twitched. He rubbed it again, a low growl rumbling through him.

He should stop. He knows he should. But he can't. He kept rubbing. His eyes on her lips. Pleasure built up inside of him quickly. His breath hitching as she licked her lips again. His heated eyes fixed on her pink tongue as it flicked across her full lips. He had to taste them.

Bending down slowly, cautiously, his hand furiously rubbing his cock through the material, he brushed his lips against hers. His eyes closed as his body tensed, his hand rubbing desperately on his twitching cock. Pushing his lips against hers, he stifled a moan as pleasure soared through him, cum shooting out of his cock, dampening his pants.

He panted lightly as his body relaxed, his lips still pressed against hers. He kissed her lips softly before pulling away, straightening his body.

His eyes looking down at her. His molten grey orbs showing no signs of affection. But he felt it. He knew what he felt for the mudblood girl laying before him. Her petite body curled into the foetal position. He knew exactly what he felt for her. It wasn't lust. It wasn't infatuation. It wasn't a crush.

He loved her. But she didn't know that. How could he show her when all she did was infuriate him? How could he be kind to her when she made it her priority to endanger her life? Reject his protection? Reject _him_? He wished she wouldn't be so reckless. He wished he could lock her up in a safe place until they found the Medallion. But the safest place was with him.

Of course, she didn't see that. She thought she was capable of protecting herself. And it infuriated him. The stupid bitch. Only he could protect her. Why didn't she realise that?

* * *

Hermione slept on the floor, her dreams plagued by thoughts of Octavia. Nightmares of her sister getting hurt. Becoming one of _them_. Her tight curls shielded her face as she lay on her side, sleeping soundly.

Blaise remained seated beside her, his eyes on her as she slept. Watching her body tense occasionally. A nightmare. He wanted to comfort her.

"General Zabini?" A pretty muggle woman approached him, speaking softly. She had black straight hair, and wide green eyes. Very beautiful. But he didn't care.

He eyed her darkly as she approached him. She was one of his girls. He knew what she was coming to him for. To _thank_ him.

"No." He growled at the girl, causing her to falter.

She nodded once before turning and walking away back toward the sleeping survivors.

His eyes turned back to the small sleeping figure beside him. Watching her as she slept. But the homemaker girl had awoken her. Blaise could tell. Even though she lay still on the floor, her hair curtaining her face, he could tell she was only pretending to sleep now.

"Stop pretending to sleep," Blaise drawled, noticing her tense slightly. "You're a terrible actress."

He smirked as she huffed audibly, sitting up to lean against the wall. Side by side. He enjoyed the proximity. He could smell the cinnamon from her. Masked with sweat and dirt, but he could smell it all the same.

"How long was I asleep?" She asked, a slight blush on her cheeks.

"An hour." He answered firmly, composing himself. The blush made him want to do all sorts of things to her. Patience. He had to have patience.

She nodded once, sadness and concern shining in her chocolate brown eyes. She was thinking of her sister, he knew. Now was the time to plant the seed.

"You have to caution your sister, Granger." Blaise advised gravely.

"What do you mean?" Hermione turned to face him, her eyes alight with trepidation and curiosity.

"She brings too much attention to herself," Blaise warned darkly. "From the wrong people."

"You mean Malfoy." Hermione sighed, nodding slightly. "I know."

"Yet you allow her to do so." Blaise quirked his eyebrow, fighting off a smirk. "Why is that?"

"I don't," Hermione spat. "I'm always telling her off about annoying him. She can't help herself. She was alone for too long, I think. She struggles understanding social interactions now. She doesn't know when to just leave things alone. That, and she is used to always getting her way. Especially from men."

"Do I sense a little jealousy?" Blaise drawled, his dark eyes fixed on her flushed face. Enchanting.

"No." Hermione shook her head. Liar.

"I see." Blaise smirked slightly. "Be that as it may, she should tread carefully."

"You think he's going to banish her?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes wide with fear.

"Perhaps," Blaise lied flawlessly. "It is headed that way."

"He can't," Hermione whispered, her eyes watering.

"He can." Blaise spoke firmly. "And he will."

"Can you speak to him?" Hermione asked hesitantly, not sure why she was asking favours of Blaise Zabini. Surely he wouldn't help her.

"Why would I do that?" Blaise quirked his eyebrow at her. "What is in it for me?"

Hermione averted her watery eyes, sighing shakily. Nothing. Nothing was in it for him. She knew that. But the ache in her heart was there all the same.

Blaise grinned as Hermione buried her face in her hands, groaning into them. It was too easy. Blaise knew that Draco would never exile the muggle girl. He was far too taken by her. If Blaise didn't know any better, he would think his friend _loved_ the girl. But that was ridiculous. It was merely an infatuation. Nevertheless, it presented him with the prime opportunity to manipulate the Granger that held _his_ affections. It was too easy.

All he had to do now, was wait.

* * *

Octavia dangled her legs off the side of the desk, humming quietly, bored out of her damn mind. She was a terrible singer, and even worse hummer. But she couldn't care less. Malfoy lay on his back, his forearm placed over his eyes. She didn't know whether he was asleep or not. She figured the latter. He wouldn't sleep when they were trapped, waiting for the walkers to disperse. He would want to be on guard at all times.

Sighing she jumped off the desk and headed for the cabinet at the other side of the small room. She was starving, thanks to Malfoy, so she opened the cabinet doors, her eyes scanning the contents on the shelves, looking for food. She frowned when she all she saw were documents and stationary. Boring.

She stomped back over to the desk and opened the drawers, rummaging through the papers and staplers loudly. Nothing. Great.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Malfoy growled, laying in the same position as before.

"Looking for food," she answered lightly, not caring that she was annoying him.

She was hungry and that was his fault.

"Come here." He growled warningly, ensuring she didn't hesitate.

And she didn't. She glowered at him as she stomped toward him. She stopped as she approached him, standing beside his head, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled down at him.

His free hand fished into his trouser pocket, pulling out a mars bar and handing it out to her. Her scowl faded as she eyed the chocolate bar, his arm extended, holding it up for her to take. Her hand hesitantly moved toward his, as though afraid he would snatch it away from her at any given second. He didn't. His hand patiently held out the chocolate as she took it timidly, their fingers touching slightly. She blushed.

Her eyes widened slightly at her blush. What was that about? But his arm remained over his eyes, shielding her flushed face from his vision. Thankfully.

Dropping to the ground beside him, she opened the chocolate wrapper quickly.

"Do you want some?" She asked before taking a large bite. Please say no. Please say no.

"No." He clipped.

She smiled as she swallowed the chocolate before taking a second bite greedily.

"How much longer do we have to stay here for?" Octavia asked with a mouthful of chocolate.

"Not long." He answered firmly. His tone was, as always, less than friendly. Always unkind. But at least he was answering her. It surprised her a little. She half expected him to ignore her the whole time.

"What do –" she began, but he cut her off with a growl.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

Her eyes widened as she felt that familiar anxiety he stirred in her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, standing up and walking back to the desk. She climbed on top of it, resuming her previous position but facing away from him.

Entirely unaware that he removed his arm from his face, his cold grey eyes watching her leave him. Watching her climb ungracefully onto the desk, her back to him as she sat and ate. His jaw clenched as he sighed inaudibly.

He regretted his berating of her. He much preferred it when she chose to sit by him. It almost made him smile. Almost.


	9. Chapter 9

Much to Octavia's dismay, Malfoy had ordered her to remain in the Jeep until dinner was served. He didn't offer an explanation for his demand, and his threatening gaze warned her off questioning him. Thankfully, Ginny had opted to keep her company for the few hours leading up to dinner, the red-head much too miserable to join the runners and fixers on repairing the second inventory truck. Octavia felt pity for the red-head. She knew the woman's misery was focused on the fact that Astoria had died. Ginny was evidently quite smitten by the girl, but Octavia hated her. Despite that, Octavia offered whatever comfort she could to the girl she was fond of. The girl that cried silently into her lap, and had done for the past hour.

Octavia ran her fingers through the red hair sprawled out on her lap, much like Hermione did with her in a soothing gesture. Although she was utterly perplexed as to why Ginny had sought her out for comfort. Perhaps because she was the only one not preoccupied.

Hermione worked with Snape to sift through Astoria's belongings, searching for her notes on the ruins. Pansy helped the remaining survivors clean up the carnage left by the walkers; dead bodies and guts. The Vipers convened by the second inventory truck, listening to a few Fixers that estimated how long it would take to repair the vehicle and what was needed. While some Runners ventured to the service station to acquire the required pieces for the vehicle.

Given the hold-up the group experienced earlier that day, it was decided by the Vipers that they would remain in the small country town until after dinner. Giving them enough time to grieve the lost members of the group, fix the vehicle and refuel their bodies.

Ginny's grumbling belly pulled Octavia from her trance, causing her to frown slightly.

"Are you hungry?" Octavia asked lightly, keeping her tone soft and soothing.

"No," Ginny whispered, but her rumbling stomach suggested otherwise.

"Maybe you should eat something," Octavia suggested gently.

"I can't eat," Ginny whispered roughly, the sobs threatening to break through.

"I could get you some fruit, maybe?" Octavia mused aloud. "It'll be easy to eat and you'll feel a little better."

Ginny didn't respond verbally. She merely shrugged her shoulders. But Octavia smiled sadly all the same. She squirmed out from beneath Ginny's head, glancing around for Malfoy or Blaise, reluctant to leave the Jeep. Malfoy had ordered her to remain in the vehicle, but Ginny was hungry and needed to eat. So Octavia would just have to deal with the consequences of disobeying him for the umpteenth time.

Cautiously climbing out of the car, she frowned as she glanced around again, not seeing any sign of the Vipers. She knew they were down at the second inventory truck, but she was hoping they would venture up this way at some point. He would be much less angry with her if she was near the Jeep, rather than wandering around looking for him.

Sighing, she pulled herself together and held her head high in a show of faux confidence. But she only made it to the second Jeep before her bravery faltered.

"I told you to stay in the Jeep." A deep growl caught her attention.

Panic surged through her body in an instant, her palms sweating on command. Turning slowly to face the source of the angry voice, she forced herself to show no fear. But failed. Her eyes always gave her away.

Malfoy stood before her, hands in his pockets, his body tense with anger, his molten grey eyes alight with fury.

"I know," she thinned her lips, her eyes meeting furious grey orbs. "I was coming to look for you."

"Were you now?" He seethed at her. "That excuses your blatant disobedience?"

"No," she shook her head. "I … I just … well, Ginny is just hungry and … I … uh …"

"And you thought you would ignore my direct order to plead with me for some food?" He snarled at her, distaste evident in his eyes.

Octavia shrugged her shoulders lamely, her eyes averting from his penetrating icy gaze.

"Just a tin of fruit or something, and I swear I'll stay in the car," Octavia offered meekly, not meeting his eyes.

"If you had obeyed my orders in the first place," he hissed at her, stepping toward her slowly. "I would have granted your request."

He approached her, his body a mere inch from hers, anger radiating from him. Slowly, she raised her fearful eyes to meet his gaze as he looked down at her. She shrunk back slightly, leaning against the car behind her.

"Now," he seethed at her, his breath brushing across her face, "you will get nothing."

"It's not for me," she whispered, her doe-eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

"No!" He snapped at her, causing her to flinch slightly.

"She's hungry," Octavia whispered, her wide eyes begging him.

"I SAID NO!" He shouted at her, causing the surrounding survivors to snap their heads to the scene.

Her eyes watered as she looked up at him, her body trembling slightly. Unsuccessfully fighting back tears, she nodded her head and walked back toward the Jeep she was exiled to, the scornful eyes of nearby survivors watching her as she went.

Furious grey eyes fixed on her back as she walked away from him, his body shaking with rage.

Hurriedly climbing into the Jeep, seating herself beside a teary-eyed Ginny, she could feel the burn of Malfoy's eyes on her.

"Sorry," Octavia mumbled, preparing to disappoint her friend.

"I heard." Ginny nodded, her pained eyes fixed on her hands clasped in her lap. "You shouldn't have asked him."

"You're hungry," Octavia thinned her lips. She knew she shouldn't have asked. But she always realised that _after_ she pissed him off. A little too late.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked softly, her eyes watery.

Octavia was baffled. The girl had just lost the bitch that she loved (or just really liked, who knew? Octavia didn't.), and she was asking Octavia if _she_ was alright? It completely astounded her how the red-head could be so considerate.

"I'm fine," Octavia lied with a smile. She was far from 'fine'. She was hurt, angry and frightened. Every day she seemed to piss him off more and more, headed straight for banishment. And it was her own stupidity that was to blame. Her own foolishness. But she wouldn't admit that. She would blame Malfoy instead.

Fucking Malfoy.

General Fuckwit.

The bane of her existence.

Also the man that continued to save her life. But she ignored that.

* * *

Octavia averted her eyes from her sister's scolding gaze. Hermione had been staring at her for a while not, but sat in total silence. A silence so uncomfortable it made both Octavia and Ginny on edge. What made it worse was the obviousness of her sister's admonishment.

Hermione sat in driver's seat, leaning back against the steering wheel _just_ so she could stare at her sister. Ginny and Octavia settled in the backseat, diverting their eyes from the furious chocolate brown orbs. Pansy reclining in the passenger seat, eyes closed, apparently napping. Or relaxing. Or, most likely, just trying to ignore the awkward atmosphere that encompassed them.

But Hermione had yet to reprimand her sister. Mainly because Blaise and Malfoy reclined against the hood of the Jeep, speaking quietly. Too close for Hermione to let loose on her sister.

"Ahem," Ginny cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with the tension surrounding them. "Did that guy teach you any more games?"

Octavia turned her glassy eyes to Ginny's pleading gaze. She was obviously trying to distract the anger from Hermione. It didn't work.

"I have a good one," Hermione spat. "Let's play _Octavia's top ten ways to get into trouble_."

"I was thinking more like the three questions game," Ginny thinned her lips, her eyes apologising to Octavia.

"Oh?" Hermione feigned surprise. "What about _Octavia's top ten ways on how to ignore direct orders_?"

Octavia scowled as Blaise and Malfoy scoffed at the front of the Jeep, evidently enjoying Hermione's berating. Fucking wankers.

"Maybe we shouldn't play a game," Ginny mumbled, her cheeks flushing. Obviously embarrassed at dropping Octavia in the shit.

"Not even _Octavia's top ten ways on how to get banished_?" Hermione suggested sarcastically, her eyes livid.

"If you could eat anything in the world right now," Octavia spoke quietly, ignoring Hermione's scathing glare, "what would it be?"

"Pumpkin Pasties," Ginny answered with a small smile, her answer the same as before.

"Brie cheese," Pansy answered loudly from the passenger seat.

Octavia smiled. But her smile faltered as Hermione hissed her response.

"Sunday roast."

Oh well. At least she was playing. Progress.

"Octavia?" Pansy prompted. "Cheese again?"

"Salt and Vinegar crisps," Octavia smiled.

"Yuck," Ginny scowled. "I had them once. They burn your tongue."

"I dunno if they _burn_ your tongue. But they are a bit nippy. And delicious." Octavia grinned, happy to distract the red-head from her misery, if only for a moment.

"If you could do anything right now, what would it be?" Octavia asked the second question, eyes on Malfoy's back.

She didn't like to be around him. Especially only an hour after he yelled at her.

"Find the Medallion," Hermione answered quickly, her tone clipped.

"Play Quidditch," Ginny answered the same as last time again. Boring.

"Go to a Spa," Pansy sighed, her tone wistful.

"See Nyle." Octavia answered solemnly. She was in desperate need of his comfort.

Especially with Malfoy so close, her anxiety was on overdrive. She noticed that his body tensed at her answer. Odd.

"No dead people." Hermione hissed. "Or do you make a habit of not following the rules, even your own?"

"Shut up!" Octavia snapped. "The rule is 'no relatives' for your information."

"Next question," Pansy drawled, attempting to shut the Granger twins up.

"If you could have anything right now," Octavia sighed. "What would it be?"

"A chance to say goodbye," Ginny whispered, her eyes watering.

"A walker-free world," Pansy sighed.

"A gun," Octavia answered firmly, glaring at the back of Malfoy's head. If it were possible, he tensed even more.

"A sister that's not a complete fucking idiot," Hermione seethed at her, causing her to flinch.

"I'm not an idiot," Octavia scowled at her, her hazel eyes shining with hurt.

"Right." Hermione scoffed. "If you're not the dumbest person alive, then I'm not a witch and the world isn't overrun by the undead."

"Shut up," Octavia whispered, her voice cracking as sobs threatened to wrack her body, her eyes tearing up. "Don't call me dumb."

"No!" Hermione shouted at her, her eyes ablaze with rage. "You need to hear this! You can't keep going on as though you do nothing wrong. You're stupid to think that it's anyone's fault but your own that you're always in trouble. If you just followed the fucking rules like everyone else –"

"ENOUGH!" Malfoy yelled, causing the girls to flinch, Octavia's face streaked with tears from her sister's words.

Both Malfoy and Blaise turned to face the girls in the car, evidently enraged at the bickering. Sobbing quietly, Octavia's watery eyes met Malfoy's fierce gaze, and for a moment, she would have sworn she saw a flash of pity in them. But it was gone before she could be sure.

"Granger," Blaise growled, his eyes cold as he looked at an ashamed Hermione. "Come with me."

Hermione didn't hesitate as she climbed out of the Jeep, following Blaise as he strode down the street briskly, headed to the studious Snape.

Malfoy's penetrating gaze locked Octavia's teary eyes for a few more moments before he strode to the side of the Jeep and climbed into the driver's seat.

"No more games." Malfoy growled at the remaining three girls.

With that, they fell into an uncomfortable silence, Pansy and Ginny sharing knowing looks while Octavia cried silently.

Grey eyes watching her in the rear-view mirror. Fixed on the tears that streamed down her face. Pity in his eyes. Only a glimmer of it. But it was there all the same. To anyone who looked close enough.

But she didn't.

* * *

Hermione followed Blaise down the street, her head hung in embarrassment. She didn't like that he saw that side of her. The side of her that only Octavia could bring out with her blatant stupidity. She was only being cruel to be kind. It was the best way to handle her sister. Otherwise she just did whatever she wanted, not caring about the consequences.

But Hermione cared. It would break her heart if she were banished, so she did what she could to keep her sister in line. It wasn't enough though. She was scared.

"You know you made it worse, right?" Blaise growled, stopping abruptly to face her, his tall figure looming over her.

"She needed to hear it," Hermione responded confidently, raising her chin defiantly. "Otherwise she would continue to –"

"What?" Blaise interrupted savagely, his lip curling into a snarl. "Otherwise she would continue to what? Hold Draco's negative attention?"

"Yes." Hermione clipped, ignoring the hurt inside of her at his ferocity.

"And you didn't encourage that?" Blaise snarled at her. "Bringing attention to her disobedience right in front of him? Reminding him of the wrongs she has done? Feeding his anger with your sister?"

Hermione thinned her lips as she considered his words. Or reprimanding. There was truth to what he said. Something she didn't think about. Her cheeks flushed.

"I thought you were the 'Brightest Witch of Your Age'." Blaise hissed, evidently displeased with her. "It seems I was wrong."

Hermione bit her lip, drawing on all her strength to not crumble. She knew it was her feelings for the Viper before her that made his anger all the more effective. But that knowledge didn't appease the hurt inside of her.

"Join Snape," he ordered harshly. "Work on the ruins. I think you've done enough damage for one day."

Hermione chanced a glare at him, which he returned tenfold causing her to falter. Holding her head up high, she stalked off toward the Potions Master that sat on the pavement, surrounded by ancient books and Astoria's notes.

Feeling the intense eyes of an angry Blaise Zabini as she went.

A smirking Blaise Zabini.

A Viper that was incredibly pleased with himself.

* * *

Standing beside Hermione, Malfoy and Blaise behind them, Octavia could barely contain her excitement. It was mid-afternoon and a few of the remaining group were headed out to the nearby woods to hunt. Much to her delight, Malfoy was joining the team, dragging her along with him. Why, she didn't know. Probably because he wanted to keep an eye on her, obviously not trusting her to stay within the guard's eyesight while he was gone. Or he knew she would have used the opportunity to steal food for Ginny. Whatever. She was pleased to be joining them. Grateful to venture out into the woodlands, the environment she spent the majority of the past year in. Somewhere familiar to her.

Although she definitely didn't plan on participating in the hunt. Killing animals was something she was never capable of. Even when she was starving. So she planned on just shadowing Hermione for the duration. Enjoying the smell and freedom of nature as she did. Although her sister was definitely still angry with her. A feeling she reciprocated. But they didn't have to talk to one another. They could walk in silence for all she cared.

"Granger!" Malfoy barked from behind her.

Hermione and Octavia whipped their heads around to the Viper behind them. His eyes were on a timid Octavia. Fuck. Had he changed his mind? Was he going to tell her to stay in the Jeep again?

Tentatively she stepped toward him, his cold eyes on her as she approached.

Her eyes widened as he handed her bowie knife, handle first. She looked up at him, her cautious eyes assessing his cold stare. Hesitantly she clasped her fingers around the black leather handle of the knife, afraid he would change his mind, or he was just toying with her. But he let her take it.

"I expect you to return that as soon as we arrive back at the base," Malfoy advised her sternly.

She nodded, grinning widely. His eyes remained cold and distant, but if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn his lips twitched slightly, almost smiling. No. That was silly. Nevertheless, she was doing a happy-dance internally. Even if she only had the knife for an hour or so, she was on cloud fucking nine. That changed quickly though.

Blaise stepped toward her sister, handing her a revolver.

"Six bullets," Blaise clipped. "You shouldn't have to use them as I expect you to stay by us at all times. But all the same … just in case."

Hermione nodded, a small smile gracing her lips as she took the gun from his tanned hand. Octavia scowled. She got a fucking knife. Bullshit. Utter bullshit.

"Stay close." Malfoy growled at Octavia, his eyes warning. Daring her to object.

She didn't. She nodded once in agreement, her hand clasping onto the handle of the knife firmly. There was no need to upset him. She got a knife. It wasn't as good as a gun, but it was a weapon all the same.

The Viper men strode by the Granger twins, the girls immediately falling into line behind them as they walked toward the woods in silence.

Octavia with a smile on her face, the knife gripped tightly in her hand.

* * *

Blaise and Hermione walked ahead of her a few metres, she and Malfoy strolling leisurely behind them. Both pairs appeared to be walking in silence, but Octavia didn't mind that. It meant it was quiet enough to enjoy the sounds of nature that was so familiar to her. She could hear the birds chirping away and the breeze rustling the leaves.

Malfoy walked behind her, probably ensuring she couldn't wander out of his eye-sight. She didn't mind though. He remained silent, only the sounds of his boots crunching on the branches and leaves beneath him as he walked. She could hear his breathing, so she assumed he was mere inches behind her, keeping her pace.

Occasionally she would spot another member of their group through the array of thin, tall trees. There were only about ten of them in the woods, remaining relatively close to one another. On guard in case they were unfortunate enough to encounter a walker or a herd of them. But the woods seemed reasonably quiet, discounting the songs of the birds. That reassured Octavia.

In her experience, if walkers were near, the birds would not sing. They would fly away. It would alert her of any approaching dangers, allowing her to survive for a year on her own. So the songs of the birds relaxed her, engulfing her in the brilliant sensation of feeling safe.

Reluctantly, she had to admit having Malfoy behind her added to her sense of security. While she wasn't his biggest fan, he seemed to have a knack for saving her life. For reasons she didn't know. But she wasn't complaining. Without him, she would have died twice over. And she'd only been with the group a week. The thought stirred something inside of her. She wasn't sure what it was. A strange sensation, laced with hatred and fear. She ignored it.

But there was something she couldn't ignore. Something she had been thinking about since that morning. Why her? Why did he save her over Astoria? Did he even have a choice? Was it too late for Astoria by the time he reached them? She didn't know. But she wanted to know.

Something caught her peripherals.

Octavia stopped in her tracks, Malfoy's chest colliding with her back. She grunted as she stumbled slightly, his arm wrapping around her waist, stopping her from falling to the ground. He didn't speak as she straightened herself. His arm lingered around her for a moment before he pulled it away, his fingertips grazing across her torso as he did so. That strange sensation tingling inside of her. Odd.

"Why did you stop?" The familiar growl came from behind her, his chest still pressed against her back.

"Shh," she hushed, raising her hand to point to the small clearing on their right.

As he was behind her, she couldn't see him. But she knew he looked to the direction she pointed in, his light breath sweeping across her loose curls as he turned his head.

A Sika deer stood in the centre of the clearing, sunrays dancing around it as the deer leisurely grazed on the lush grass.

Quietly, Octavia slipped off her boots, placing her knife inside one of them, before walking cautiously toward the clearing, careful not to make a sound. Avoiding branches on the ground, she approached the clearing, her eyes on the beautiful deer before her. It hadn't noticed her yet, much to her delight. She was sure it bolt the moment it saw her. And she wanted to watch it for a while longer.

It was just such a peaceful scene. A little beauty in an ugly world. The deer wasn't large, so she guessed it was young. Perhaps only a year old. It was a female, she knew. It didn't have antlers. She wondered if it had any babies. Or 'fawns' they were called, she remembered. Did it have any parents? Or did the walkers get them, like they got hers? Deciding the deer had many fawn and both its parents, Octavia smiled. She smiled as it fed on the grass gently. Not a care in its world. It's peaceful, beautiful world.

Her body tensed slightly. She feel Malfoy's breath on her curls again. She turned to face him slowly. Malfoy had followed her, silently it seemed, and stood behind her, his fingers holding her combat boots by the laces. His cold grey eyes were not on the beautiful creature in the clearing. They were on her, looking down at her.

Her eyes locked with his. His grey orbs held her focus. He wasn't angry. His eyes weren't cold. They weren't warm either. But she wasn't frightened of him in that moment. For the first time since she met him. She noticed his eyes had wisps of silver through them. They almost glimmered.

A shiver ran down her spine as his breath brushed over her face. Not the bad kind of shiver. Instantly she blushed at her reaction to his proximity. A reaction she hadn't had with him before. Excluding when he was being sucked off by a home-maker, of course. Fuck. She blushed harder. Her cheeks were burning, her eyes widening slightly.

Malfoy placed his hand on the rough tree-trunk behind her, his chest pressing against hers lightly. Guiding her backwards slowly, trapping her between the tree and his muscular chest. Her heart pounded against her ribcage at his movements. Her blush not leaving her face. Her breathing quickening somewhat.

Her wide doe-eyes remained locked in his heated gaze. But a different kind of heated than what she was used to. A kind of heated that sent shivers and tingles through her body. Sensations that confused her, given her hatred for the man pressed up against her.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned down slowly, his face moving closer to hers. Her mind was utter mush as their noses touched ever so slightly, entirely frozen in place by his fierce eyes.

She gasped as a loud bang echoed through the area, deafening her. Gunfire. A yelp escaped her lips as Malfoy shoved her to the ground harshly. His hand pressed against the back of her neck firmly, holding her down as he crouched beside her, grey eyes scanning the area for the source of the gunfire.

Several members of their group ran to the clearing, two of them high fiving one another. Malfoy spotted what lay at their feet. Inhaling deeply, he removed his grip from her neck, yanking her up by the arms, facing her away from the clearing. Away from the deer that lay on the grass, blood pouring out of its side. Dying slowly and painfully.

"Don't look." He growled, as she looked up at him fearfully.

And then it hit her. Her lip trembled, tears burning her eyes that locked onto his as she sobbed. She knew they had killed the deer. And it broke her fucking heart.

She cried loudly, gasping for breaths between her sobs as Malfoy grabbed her wrist, pulling her along as he marched away, headed back to the base. Far too concerned about removing her from the situation that neither of them noticed she was still without her shoes, her combat boots in his other hand.

* * *

A single tear trickled down Octavia's cheek as she sat beside Ginny, watching as the remaining members of the group ripped into the cooked flesh of the deer. Their teeth tearing the hunks of brown meat apart, their lips and hands covered in the juices of the steaks. She downright refused to participate in the barbaric scene before her. It made her sick to her fucking stomach.

Octavia would not consider herself to be a vegetarian, by any means. But after seeing the deer in its natural habitat, looking glorious and regal. Peaceful, as it grazed the luscious green grass leisurely. Since witnessing such a magnificent scene, she couldn't bear the thought of eating the poor creature. The creature that didn't deserve to die. The creature that was just minding its own business, eating. Until they came for it.

She frowned. They were just as bad as the walkers. Not caring about the feelings or lives of what they killed and ate. Just focused on satiating their hunger. Disgusting.

Ginny didn't eat either. They were the only two people to not wolf the poor creature down. But Ginny's reasons differed from Octavia's. Ginny was far too distraught to stomach food, especially something as heavy as meat. So they sat side by side, their faces scrunched up as they watched their group use their teeth and hands to rip into the flesh of the creature that should have lived.

Much like watching a walker devour a person. It just wasn't right.

But it was survival. That's why her group ate. And that's why the walkers ate. They were merely following their needs and urges. Feeding their hunger. To live another day.

Octavia frowned. She would rather go hungry for day than eat the flesh before her. Than eat the carcass of the poor creature. No. She would not participate. She would rather starve.

It seemed like she would, though. The last thing she had eaten was the mars bar Malfoy gave her, almost twelve hours ago. And the night before that, he denied her dinner. So Octavia was definitely hungry, to the point where she felt physically sick. Feeling the foul bile trickle up her throat.

But no matter how hungry she felt, she downright refused to eat the beautiful deer.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco tossed his empty plate on the ground, his eyes on the muggle. He knew she was hungry. Not just because she cradled her stomach as she scowled at the carcass in the centre of the group. She had only eaten a chocolate bar in the last twenty-four hours. Because she had angered him and he denied her food in return. She was hungry because of him.

He sighed before nodding to Theo.

"LISTEN UP," Theo shouted as he stood, addressing the group. "WE LEAVE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

Draco didn't watch as the home-makers stood, preparing to clear the area of dishes, the guards moving to place the supplies in the repaired inventory truck. There weren't many of them left now, not after the walkers that attacked that morning. A group that had previously sat at about fifty or so people. Now in the low thirties. He knew that had his focus not been on saving the muggle girl, more would have survived. It was once his main objective during attacks. Save the group. They needed the numbers for after they found the Medallion. But now, he only thought of saving her. Only her.

His eyes remained on the scowling muggle across from him.

"When was the last time you slept?" Blaise asked, sitting beside him.

"Two days ago," Draco answered, his eyes still on the muggle. She was pouting now. He smirked fleetingly.

"I'll drive." Blaise sighed, twirling the keys in his fingers casually. "I slept after the hunt."

Draco nodded once in agreeance as a home-maker grabbed the plate at his feet.

"You!" Draco barked at the timid girl. "Heat up a tin of soup on the fire before we leave."

The girl nodded before she turned and walked to the guards by the truck, immediately obeying his command.

"For your muggle?" Blaise drawled, knowing the answer already.

"Yes." Draco clipped as he stood, ignoring the heaviness of his eyelids.

"And here I thought you were angry with her." Blaise quirked his eyebrow.

"Things change." Draco answered, grabbing the Jeep supply bag from the ground.

"You feel sorry for her." Blaise smirked, eyeing the deer carcass.

Draco didn't respond.

"You're tired." Blaise grinned. "You should sleep in the backseat. Maybe your muggle will let you rest your head on her lap."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his comrade before stalking off toward the Jeep. Despite his favourable encounter with the muggle mere hours ago, he knew she would not allow him to rest on her. As much as he would like to.

Blaise knew that. But that wasn't why he suggested it. Draco knew Blaise merely wanted Hermione in the passenger seat as he drove. To be near her. Much like Draco felt the urge to be near his mudblood. The mudblood that he almost kissed. And she almost let him. He wondered if she would have responded had they not been interrupted. Or would she have realised her disdain for him, pushing him away from her. It would have angered him. And he would have felt the horrid sensation that coursed through him when she scowled at him. Her eyes filled with fear and hatred. The sensation of hurt. It only angered him more.

But at this particular moment, he was feeling rather fond of the mudblood. Pleased with her. Pitying her.

* * *

Octavia fidgeted in the backseat of the Jeep, trying to get comfortable. It was no use, really. She wanted to sprawl out over Hermione, but her slumbering sister was still giving her the silent treatment. Great.

She watched as Malfoy climbed into the passenger seat, holding a flask in one hand. He turned in his seat, extending his hand out to her, handing her the flask. Frowning, she met his cold steely eyes as she rudely snatched the flask from his hand. She was angry with him. He allowed the group to eat the animal. He participated. It made her fucking sick to her stomach.

His eyes darkened as she turned her face from his, no thanks or smile for the flask of hot soup. He turned back in his seat, Octavia using the opportunity to snarl at the back of his head.

Unscrewing the lid from the flask, Octavia's snarl faltered upon seeing and smelling the contents. Hot tomato soup. It wasn't her favourite soup or anything. But she smiled all the same.

"Thank you." She whispered quietly, trying not to wake Hermione up and only partially wanting to thank him.

He didn't respond. She shrugged as she sipped on the soup, her eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of the soup travelling down her throat. Her eyes opened, watching as the seat before her reclined, Malfoy shifting himself into a sleeping position.

"You're welcome." He replied quietly.

She blinked at the seat before her, only seeing wisps of his light blonde hair.

Smiling slightly, she shook her head. Ignoring the strange sensation in her tummy. A feeling she'd never had before until earlier that day. An odd sensation. Almost like it was fluttering.

Odd.


	10. Chapter 10

_Octavia lay on her back in the clearing, her eyes shut in blissful ecstasy, moans escaping her parted lips. Her hands were pinned above her head, her curls sprawled on the grass like a halo._

 _His hard, muscular chest pressed down against her, pinning her down as he slammed into her rapidly, her body squirming beneath his. She shivered as his harsh breaths brushed against her lips, his eyes boring into hers. It was all she saw, really. His eyes. Holding her gaze. Penetrating her soul as his engorged cock penetrated her quivering cunt mercilessly._

 _Her legs wrapped around his hips, hooking at the ankles, shaking as pleasure crashed down on her in violent waves. Her body arching off the ground, pushing against his solid chest as he growled above her._

 _She didn't find her own release before he stilled and –_

 _"_ _What about me?" She asked. "I need to –"_

 _"_ _I SAID NO!" He shouted, still buried to the hilt inside of her, his eyes furious._

 _His molten grey eyes._

* * *

With an audible gasp, Octavia jolted from her sleep, tangling herself in her blanket as she desperately tried to grasp reality. Oh. That's right. They were in the Jeep, travelling. For days now.

In the Jeep. Not having sex with Malfoy in the clearing of the forest. A part of her was a little disappointed. But of course she would never admit that. She hated the prat! The sexy prat … No! Just a prat. General Fuckwit. Even in her dreams he was an ass! But it felt so good …

"Bad dream?" Hermione asked with a smirk, Blaise chuckling from the passenger seat.

"What?" Octavia frowned, confusion etched onto her tired features.

Rubbing her hands over face wearily, Octavia inhaled deeply.

"I asked if you had a bad dream," Hermione answered, grinning widely at her sister.

"No." Octavia frowned. "Sort of. I dunno. Why?"

Hermione burst into a fit of laughter, Blaise chuckling again from the seat in front of Octavia. Malfoy's grip on the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles white and his body tense.

"Who were you dreaming about?" Hermione asked, fighting off her fit of laughter.

Octavia merely scrunched up her face in confusion at her sister, tilting her head slightly.

"Was it that guy?" Hermione grinned. "The one that taught you the games?"

"Nyle." Octavia clipped with narrowed eyes. "His name is Nyle. And no. It wasn't. Why?"

Octavia noticed that Malfoy relaxed instantly.

"Oh?" Hermione perked, shifted her body to face her sister's. "Who was it?"

"Who was what?" Octavia sighed, rolling her eyes. What was her sister on about?

"The person you dreamt about." Hermione winked at her.

"Someone," Octavia shrugged lamely. "Why are you so interested in my dreams?"

"Just sounded like a good dream," Hermione laughed.

Octavia's eyes widened instantly, a fierce blush spreading across her shocked face.

"Oh god," Octavia groaned, burying her face in her hands. Blaise laughed in the passenger seat.

"Yeah," Hermione laughed. "You said that a lot. As well as 'more' and 'don't stop'."

"Fuck off!" Octavia shouted, utterly mortified.

"You're really quite loud, you know." Hermione gasped in between fits of giggles, almost drowned out as Blaise doubled over from his laughter.

"Shut up!" Octavia yelled, not knowing whether to hit her sister or cry from sheer humiliation. Her face the colour of the ripest tomato ever known to mankind.

"My favourite part was when you –" Hermione began excitedly.

"Enough!" Malfoy barked, silencing the bushy-haired Granger instantly.

Octavia stuck up the finger at her dispirited sister, with a smug smirk. Ha!

Octavia kept the smug look plastered onto her face as she mouthed two words to her dejected sister - _Fuck you_ -earning her a gasp in response.

Octavia grinned widely as her sister scowled. Although Octavia was torn between her smug grin and a scowl as Blaise continued to chuckle in the seat in front of her. She watched as Malfoy hissed something a Blaise, causing the latter to quieten instantly.

Beaming widely, Octavia shifted in her seat, draping the blanket over her legs. Malfoy definitely didn't like a loud car ride, it seemed. Even when it was filled with laughter at her expense. But she wasn't complaining. His grouchy, kill-joy nature had come in handy for once. She was more than pleased.

Ignoring the ache in her cunt, she turned her satisfied face to the side, her eyes fixed on the window as they drove.

Heated grey eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror.

Always watching her.

* * *

Octavia walked with the girls as they made their way back toward the vehicles on the road. Thankfully, they had stopped for a toilet break, allowing Octavia to relieve herself as well as escape Malfoy and Blaise. She was still beyond humiliated at her very vocal dream to be around them. However, she was finding that it was hardly an escape, given Hermione's incessant smirks and winks had yet to cease. Oh, as well as the fact that she told Ginny and Pansy about her load moans. Let's not forget that!

And now she had to suffer through the never ending string of questions from her _friends_.

"Was it someone in the group?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"A Runner?" Ginny asked, grinning widely.

"A Fixer?" Hermione gasped with a scandalous tone.

"A _Viper_?" Pansy asked with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

"Was it Blaise?" Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Theo." Ginny nodded. "Definitely Theo."

Octavia rolled her eyes as she walked in line with them, ignoring their rapid firing of questions. They didn't even give her enough time to respond anyway.

"Crabbe?" Hermione laughed, joined by the other girls. Except a scowling Octavia, of course.

"Draco?" Pansy winked at her. "It was definitely Draco."

"No it wasn't!" Octavia yelled, stomping her foot childishly.

The other girls stopped in their tracks and turned to stare at her with wide eyes.

"It _was_ Malfoy!" Hermione gasped, pointing a finger at her sister accusingly.

"No!" Octavia whined. "It wasn't!"

"He's the only name you reacted to!" Ginny gaped at her, giddy with glee.

"Because I hate him." Octavia seethed at the red-head.

"There's a fine line between love and hate," Pansy smirked. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

"There's a fine line between love and my fist in your face." Octavia hissed at the girl, but Pansy only grinned in response.

"Cute." Pansy laughed at her.

Octavia let out a frustrated shriek, before stomping off toward the vehicles, the giggling girls following behind her.

* * *

Draco swiftly made his way through the thin spread of trees, walking in the opposite direction of the members of the group relieving themselves. He almost jogged in the opposite direction. He needed to be quick. But really, he didn't think that would be an issue.

Her moans haunted his mind relentlessly. He _had_ to order everyone to pull over for a premature 'toilet break'. But he had no intention of using the break for that purpose. He needed to relieve himself of the almost painful erection in his pants. The erection that hadn't softened in the slightest since she moaned and whimpered in her sleep an hour ago.

He'd never been more turned on in his life.

Leaning against a tree, he wasted no time in unzipping his trousers, his heavy cock springing free of the restraints, glistening with an unusually large amount of pre-cum. It didn't startle him though. He gave himself a few easing rubs in the Jeep, hoping to soothe the ache in his cock. But it only wept pre-cum in response, jerking against the material, begging for attention.

Hurriedly, Draco used his fingers to spread the white semen over the long length of his cock, imagining it was her saliva and her hand. His eyes shut, his head lolling back as he groaned loudly. Much louder than he normally did. Usually he only groaned when he came, and even then it was hardly _loud_. But now he was panting and groaning desperately, his hand pumping his cock rapidly.

So many images of her ran through his mind as he pumped his shaft, his hips bucking desperately. Images of her on her knees before him, sucking his cock hungrily, moaning over his shaft as she looked up at him. Images of her writhing beneath his hard body, her wide eyes locked with his. His breath hitched. Her eyes.

Just the thought of her large, hazel eyes sent him over the edge. His head slammed back against the tree as he almost roared, cum shooting out of his cock.

Panting lightly, Draco tucked his still-hard cock back into his trousers before making his way back to the vehicles. His thoughts on her eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

* * *

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest as she stood by the Jeep, tilting her head as she eyed the slumbering figure in the backseat. She didn't want to wake him, for fear of being berated. But he was in _her_ seat. She frowned at him.

Blaise Zabini lay on his back, his forearm resting over his eyes, fast asleep. Octavia knew he hadn't slept in a while. Only a few hours here and there over the past few days. Particularly sleep deprived as they tried to make up for lost time, only stopping for toilet breaks. Not even for meals. Only toilet breaks. And those were only about three times in a twenty-four hour period, much to her dismay. She was really quite terrible at holding in her wee. Oh well.

Glaring at the sleeping figure briefly, Octavia stomped over to the other side of the Jeep, jumping into the passenger seat. Malfoy sat in the driver's seat, facing the road before them. He didn't object to her new seating arrangement. Perhaps he knew that Blaise deserved to have some uninterrupted rest as well?

Turning in the seat, Octavia watched as Hermione climbed into the backseat, shimmying underneath Blaise's legs before placing them on top of her lap. Octavia smirked at her sister. Hermione blushed and scowled at her.

Octavia turned back in her seat, stretching out her limbs and yawning. Unbeknownst to a smirking Malfoy beside her.

* * *

Hauling her bag over her shoulder, Octavia climbed the staircase with the girls and the rest of the group, all following the Vipers. They were being led up the flight of stairs in the supermall, headed for the second floor. While the Runners, Hunters and Vipers all spent the last two hours clearing the mall of walkers on every floor, they had decided that they would spend the night on the second floor only. It allowed them optimal safety and vision. The Guards would be able to detect the threat of another group or herd of walkers through the large glass windows, as well as keep an eye on their stocked vehicles parked on the street.

They had been travelling on the road for a while now, most of the group becoming restless and unsettled at being cooped up in cars for so long. And being classic Scotland, the weather had turned less than favourable once more. So the Vipers decided it to be their best option that they spend the night in a large space that offered shelter and protection. Of course Octavia was simply ecstatic to learn that the very building they chose in the town of Clydebank, was actually a shopping centre. She would get to change her clothes, finally! Her maxi dress was hardly white anymore, having been worn for close to eight months now. It was practically brown with stains and dirt smeared across it. But she was definitely most excited at the prospect of fresh underwear. In fact, most of the women in the group appeared to share her glee. It was to be expected though. Especially when you wore the same pair of almost tattered knickers and bra for months on end.

Following the Vipers through a large metal door, Octavia couldn't keep the small smile off her face. Fresh underwear. It almost made her squeal in delight.

Once the rest of the group piled through the steel door, Crabbe closed and secured the entrance. Octavia scanned the large space quickly, smiling at the number of clothes stores. This would be fun. She also took note of the small food court to the left of the foyer, watching as some of the Hunters filled boxes with canned goods from the food stores.

"LISTEN UP!" Theo's familiar commanding voice boomed as he stood in the centre of the large space. "NO ONE IS TO VENTURE FROM THE SECOND FLOOR, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

A murmur of agreeance rippled through the attentive group.

Crabbe shouted as he moved to stand beside Theo. "THE WHOLE BUILDING HAS BEEN CLEARED, BUT WE NEED EVERYONE TO REMAIN WITHIN THE SECURITY OF THE GUARDS! WHILE THERE ARE NO WALKERS IN THE BUILDING, WE MUST ENSURE SAFETY. YOU ARE GRANTED PERMISSION TO SCAVENGE WHAT YOU WISH FROM THE STORES ON THIS FLOOR ONLY! AS LONG AS IT FITS IN YOUR BAG, UNDERSTOOD?"

Octavia wasted no time in heading straight to a small circular table at the food court, dropping into her seat with a grunt, tossing her bag onto the table before her.

Pulling out her diary, Octavia added a black line to a page of many. A tally. If she was correct in her calculations, she had been with the group for three weeks now. And so far, they had lost about twenty people. She grimaced. That was a lot. But it was during their travels that those people had died. One girl on the highway, and eighteen in Sailsbury. It wasn't _terrible_ , she mused. Yes, it was sad that people died and all, but she really had expected the entire group to of perished by now. Instead, they appeared stronger than ever. The number of guards on duty had increased, Vipers and Runners oversaw pretty much everything now, and everyone had been given a knife for the remainder of the road trip, much to her delight. Malfoy had even given her a holster for her knife. Or she assumed it was him. It was in her bag a few days ago. Along with some chocolate and crisps. Salt and Vinegar. Her favourite.

While she was incredibly aware of Malfoy's disdain toward her – his cold stares assured her of this fact – she couldn't help but think he fancied her a little. Perhaps wanting her to become one of his many girls. From Octavia's snooping, she discovered that he had about six whores. Octavia smirked. They definitely were whores. Although she didn't judge them for their actions. It's just what they were. Trading their bodies sexually in exchange for payment of some kind. Again, she didn't judge the women who did this. But she refused to be one of them. Especially since she seemed to be reaping the benefits of it, without actually offering her body to Malfoy.

While Octavia couldn't deny that Malfoy was extremely attractive, her hatred for him outweighed his appearance. He was a huge asshole. A sexy one, yes. But an asshole nonetheless. She was perfectly aware of his attempts to try and get her to trade with him in the end. Giving her tinned peaches, sneaking treats into her bag, trying to seduce her in the woods a week ago. The last one she almost fell for. She almost let him kiss her. If that gunfire hadn't of interrupted them, she would have let him do whatever he wanted with her right there on the grass. Much like her dream, actually. But her mind wasn't mushy anymore. She saw clearly. He was trying to make himself appeal to her. Trying to seduce her so she would trade with him when he stopped giving her treats. She was sure of it. But it wouldn't happen. She wouldn't allow it.

While she wanted the treats to still come her way, it wasn't worth being his whore for. And from her gossiping with the girls, she learned over and over again that he barely ever granted his whores with treats after taking pleasure in their bodies. She was no fool. She would never let him touch her.

She would dammed before she gave herself to the coldest man she had ever known. Especially not after Nyle. With Nyle, her sexual experiences were sweet and kind. They would lay beside one another afterwards, talking all night until they succumbed to sleep. She learned, with Nyle, how nice it was to be with a man who loved you. So after him, the only man she would ever give herself to is a man that _she_ loved in return. For that could be the only thing to top her encounters with Nyle. A mutual love. Definitely not being Malfoy's latest whore.

Octavia stuffed her diary back into her bag with a sigh. The devil that plagued her thoughts and dreams sat at the table silently. Not looking at her. Not talking. Just sitting there, reclining in the chair, eyes closed. She scowled.

There were so many other places to sit. Yet he sat across from her at the table she occupied. Rolling her eyes at his obvious attempts to gain her attention, she pulled the photograph from her bag. She needed to feel loved in that moment. To scrub away the feelings that Malfoy stirred in her. A strange fluttering sensation, that she still didn't recognise, having never felt it before. As well as the feeling of being _dirty_. Like she was an object to be acquired. Played with for some time, before being tossed away. Just like his whores. She was no different than them, in his eyes. She knew that.

Her lips twisted into a sweet smile as she eyed her photo with Nyle. The way his eyes looked at her in the picture … she was _loved_. She was worth more than her body. He wanted her. Not just her body. _Her_.

Much like the man that sat across from her. But she didn't know that. Nor did she know he was staring at her again.

* * *

Octavia shimmied into the clothes she snagged from the racks of the store, Hermione's laugh coming from outside of the fitting room door. She and the girls had spent pretty much the last two hours running from store to store, trying on the most ridiculous outfits they could find.

Octavia was sure she had chosen the worst one yet. A sequined orange jumpsuit that glistened. As though someone had doused the blonde from ABBA in fizzy orange juice. It was atrocious. Although she was sure the winning factor in her outfit was the orange and blue (those colours definitely _do not_ go together!) platform stripper heels.

"Let us see!" Ginny shouted from outside the fitting room, clad in fluoro green spandex.

Octavia gave her ghastly outfit a once over in the mirror before stepping out of the small cubicle, a wide grin on her face.

"Oh. My. God!" Hermione gasped before roaring in a fit of laughter, the other girls joining her.

"I win!" Octavia grinned widely, shimmying her butt to empathise her point.

"How can you walk in those?" Ginny managed to ask through a fit of laughter, pointing at the horrendous stripper heels.

"It's a gift," Octavia shrugged, grinning smugly.

"Ok," Hermione said, her giggles subsiding. "I'm going to go find clothes that I'll actually wear."

"Same," Octavia agreed, dramatically strutting back into the changing room, Pansy and Ginny laughing as they watched her go.

* * *

Walking behind Pansy and Ginny, Octavia noticed her sister scowl toward the food court. Instantly her eyes followed Hermione's, frowning at what she saw. Malfoy and Blaise sat at a table, facing them. Malfoy's eyes on her. Blaise was exchanging a few words with Bette, his pretty whore. A homemaker, as per usual. Blaise got up and led the girl to the furniture store. Gross. It didn't escape her notice however that Malfoy waved his hand dismissively at his own whore, causing the girl to scuttle away, his eyes still on Octavia.

It angered Octavia how he treated the girl. And it confused her as to why the girls kept coming back to him, despite his blatant disrespect of them. At least Blaise offered his paramours a little more respect, granting them treats occasionally. Malfoy treated them like utter shit, and it infuriated Octavia. Especially since he seemed to want her as one of his whores. Luring her in with false promises of sweets and special treatment. Only to have sex her and give her nothing in the end.

You don't fool me, devil.

"Hey," Octavia elbowed her scowling sister lightly as they entered another clothing store. "You alright?"

"Yes," Hermione clipped, not meeting her sister's eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Octavia thinned her lips. They both knew she was upset. And they both know _why_ she was upset. But she obviously wasn't ready to admit that she felt for the Viper, let alone admit she was jealous. So Octavia let it be. For now.

Sighing, she scanned the shelves of jeans, instantly pulling out a white pair. Given her white dress hardly stayed white for long, she knew she should put the jeans down and opt for black instead. But they were just so cute! And would look great with her combat boots.

Shrugging to herself, Octavia grabbed a black long-sleeved top, heading straight for the change rooms. She could wear white if she wants to. Who cares if they get a little dirty? She didn't.

Plus her butt would look great in them. Malfoy would appreciate it. Not that she cared.

* * *

Most of the group had retired to bed after dinner, given it was quite late now. But Octavia was having far too much fun with the girls to head into the furniture store and find a bed to crash on. She felt that all she had done for the past week was sleep. That and day dream about Nyle. It was all there was to do in the Jeep, really. So she enjoyed her freedom from the vehicle while she could.

Sitting at the table with Pansy, Blaise and Malfoy, Octavia laughed as Hermione wrapped Ginny's arms up in cling film, mummifying her. Digging her hands into her bag, Octavia rummaged through her belongings, smiling as she found what she was looking for. The locket. It had been a while since she had worn it last. Draping it around her neck, Octavia didn't notice as Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her.

"That hardly goes with your new outfit," Pansy sighed, eyeing the locket with apparent distaste.

Octavia shrugged in response. "It goes with everything."

"It's so old," Pansy scrunched up her face.

"I think it's an heirloom or something," Octavia sighed, raising the pendant in her hand, tilted her head as she eyed it interestedly.

"You think?" Pansy asked curiously, eyeing the locket between Octavia's slender fingers.

"Well, yeah." Octavia shrugged. "I think so."

"It's not yours?" Pansy asked.

"It is now," Octavia thinned her lips, zipping up her bag. Completely oblivious to Malfoy's scathing glare.

"Out of all the things in the world you could steal, you chose that." Pansy raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't steal it." Octavia hissed at the girl. She was getting on her nerves now.

"Oh?" Pansy smirked at the girl's attitude. "Who gave it to you?"

"Nyle," Octavia shrugged, tucking the locket under her fitted black top.

"That guy that taught you games?" Pansy asked, her expression instantly softening.

"Yeah."

"Sorry." Pansy muttered, looking ashamed.

"It's fine," Octavia shrugged and forced a smile. "It was his mums, and I think she got it from her mother. So it's old."

"It's beautiful." Pansy grinned.

Octavia laughed at the girl's blatant lie. Not noticing Malfoy tensing, his eyes filled with rage. Blaise's eyes flickered between Malfoy and Octavia, eagerly waiting for his friend to explode. But it didn't come.

Abruptly, Malfoy stood from his seat, the chair tumbling over as he did. He stalked off without a word, running his hands over his face, the girls watching him go curiously.

Octavia didn't notice that both Pansy and Blaise smirked at her, her hazel eyes watching Malfoy go, frowning as he shoved a guard out of his way. Odd.

* * *

Octavia giggled as Ginny and Hermione wrapped her up in cling film, trapping her legs together and her arms to her body.

"It's too tight!" Octavia laughed, squirming in her restraints.

"You're a mummy," Hermione laughed, running circles around her sister's frame with the thin, clear material. "Mummies can't talk."

"Uh," Octavia grunted. "It's too hot. I'm sweating."

"Don't forget her hands," Pansy shouted from the adjacent table, watching the girls mummify Octavia with glee.

Blaise, who sat next to the pug-faced girl, looked bored as ever. Although Octavia noticed his eyes held a little glint in them as he watched Hermione laugh. She smirked knowingly. Those two had it bad for each other, yet neither knew of the other's feelings. She might have to help at some point. They'd never get there on their own otherwise. They just needed a little shove. And Octavia was more than happy to interfere! Oh, I mean help. _Help_.

"Uh oh." Hermione whispered, causing Octavia to widen her eyes in panic.

"What?" Octavia asked urgently. "What'd you do?"

"Malfoy." Ginny whispered, causing Octavia to fown.

Her eyes followed her friend's gaze, spotting Malfoy headed straight for them. Eyes on her. Furious eyes.

"What'd I do?" Octavia whispered, her widened eyes on an approaching angry Malfoy.

"Obviously something," Hermione spat quietly, backing off slightly as Malfoy neared them, headed straight for Octavia.

Octavia wished she could back away from his advancing form, but she was restricted by the clear material binding her body together, rooted to the spot.

An all too familiar mix of fear and anxiety coursed through her as she eyed his clenched jaw and molten grey eyes alight with fury.

She flinched as he grabbed her shoulders and gripped tightly. Malfoy shoved her against the wall harshly, causing her to gasp at the pain. His jaw clenched, his eyes ablaze, as he proceeded to aggressively rip the offending material from her body.

"Are you kidding me?" He snarled cruelly at her, his hands snatching at the clear wrap around her body, tearing it from her arms.

"What?" She whispered, her eyes burning with tears under his cruel stare and aggressive treatment.

"Why are you so _fucking_ stupid?" He seethed at her, his hands tearing at the cling wrap, livid grey eyes boring down at her.

"Stop," she whimpered, shoving her now-free hands against his chest. "Get away from me."

Hermione stepped forward to intervene, concern shining in her eyes. Blaise was quicker. He grabbed the bushy-haired Granger by the arm, yanking her away from a furious Malfoy. Pansy and Ginny watching on with wide eyes.

"You willingly disabled yourself," he hissed as she whimpered, his hands shredding the wrap from her chest, his nails raking at her skin causing her to wince.

"Stop!" Octavia cried, tears streaming down her face as she feebly shoved her hands against his chest. He didn't budge. "You're hurting me!"

His eyes radiated pure rage as his hand gripped onto her throat strongly, causing her to wince, forcing her to look up at him. His nose touching hers. His grip was painful, but she could still breathe. Yet panic and fear surged through her every nerve ending like nothing else, her watery eyes trapped in his hateful stare. Her lip trembled as he pushed her further up against the wall, his face a touch away from hers. Her body trembled between his and the wall, her hazel orbs filled with fear. Her fingers clawed at his hand clasped firmly around her throat, tearing at his porcelain skin, sobs tearing through her wet lips.

"Walkers," he spat at her venomously, "or another group could come in here at any moment, and you, play around like a _child_."

Octavia stared up at him, her frightened eyes pleading with his enraged silver orbs, her body shaking with pure adrenaline and fear.

"I was just having fun," she whimpered, blanching as he snarled at her response.

"ARE YOU A CHILD?" Malfoy screamed in her face, his fingers digging into her neck.

"No," Octavia whimpered, clawing at his hand frantically. "GET OFF OF ME!"

Octavia cried out as he yanked her from the wall before slamming her back against it again with a thud. She grunted.

"IF YOU WANT TO ACT LIKE I CHILD," Malfoy roared in her face, his body trembling with rage, his face contorted in anger. "I WILL TREAT YOU LIKE ONE. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Octavia whimpered and sobbed as he threw her to the ground, her body colliding with the tiles. Hesitantly looking up at Malfoy's looming figure, her lip trembling, tears streaking down her face. He stood before her, looking down at her with hatred and disgust, his upper lip contorted into a vicious snarl that had her blood running cold. She wasted no time in scrambling to her feet, running straight for the furniture store, Hermione and Ginny right behind her.

"Nice going," Pansy spat at Malfoy before grabbing Octavia's bag and following the girls into the furniture store. "And don't think I didn't see that, Draco. That was harsh."

Malfoy only glanced briefly at Pansy, his eyes flickering back to the doors the muggle had disappeared through. Anger coursing through his very soul. His fists clenched, his eyes vehement.

"Pansy's right," Blaise drawled as he sat himself at the table again. "None of the others saw you take it, but Octavia will notice that it's missing."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend warningly before tossing something into the bin. Something that strangely resembled a locket. Much like the locket Octavia was wearing. Before Malfoy snatched it from her neck, of course.

"She's not the smartest muggle around," Blaise drawled, his eyes on a tense Draco. "But she may just connect the dots."

"I seriously doubt that," Draco spat.

"Good luck getting her to trade with you now," Blaise sighed.

"I do not want her to _trade_ with me." Draco seethed at his friend. "I want much more than that. And I will have it."

"You're so sure," Blaise smirked. "Even after what you just did to her?"

"She angered me," Draco spat, as though it excused his actions.

"Not for the reasons you stated, though." Blaise shook his head.

Both Blaise and Draco knew his reasons for attacking the muggle. He just couldn't contain his rage anymore. Not when she pranced around with _his_ locket around her neck, looking at _his_ picture longingly.

"Why don't you just tell her?" Blaise sighed.

"What?" Draco stared at his friend as though he had sprouted a second head.

"Tell her that it angers you when she talks of _dear sweet Nyle_." Blaise smirked. "Tell her you want her."

"I will not."

"Then how do you expect to have her in the end?" Blaise quirked his eyebrow at him.

"She will see."

"That you're her dark prince in shining armour?" Blaise laughed. "Yes, you do make a good point. With all your manhandling and screaming at the little muggle. Sweeping her right off her feet, aren't you?"

"Watch your tone." Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend, his body still tense with anger. "And like I said, she angered me. There are consequences for that."

Blaise straightened his back and thinned his lips at his friends implied warning. Nodding once to indicate that he understood, Blaise rose from the chair.

"We should get some sleep," Blaise drawled, making his way toward the furniture store. Although he was sure the muggle would be sobbing relentlessly, so he didn't plan on sleeping much through the night. She cried too much. And really, Draco had hardly harmed her. He could be much worse to her if he wished. She was overreacting, Blaise thought. She was quite a sensitive little thing. Far too sensitive. It annoyed him.


	11. Chapter 11

Desperately rummaging through her bag for the umpteenth time that week, Octavia's eyes shone with frustrated tears. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find it. The locket. She had ripped apart the seams inside of her bag, scouring it countless times. But no locket was found.

She knew she had lost it in the shopping mall a week ago. It was the last time she had it. Perhaps it had come off at some point during her many outfit changes. It must have happened then. How else could it have slipped off her neck without her noticing?

Letting out a frustrated groan Octavia threw her bag to the ground before kicking it away, eyeing it with disdain. As though her bag was the reason she lost her locket.

Frowning, she eyed the merry members of the group bathing and playing in the lake water before her. They had stopped for the day to wash and rest, their destination only two days drive away. But Octavia was in no mood for splashing around in the water. The loss of the necklace ensured she was miserable for the past week. That and Malfoy's attack of course.

Speak of the devil. Her body tensed as he sat beside her on the grass, facing the lake.

They hadn't spoken since the incident in the mall. And she was much too frightened of him to make a peep. Thankfully, he remained quiet also. Although he had apparently made it his number one priority to hover near her at all times since the incident. Making her skin crawl and her tummy flutter. She still didn't understand what the flutter was about. It was strange.

Her face contorted into a scowl as Hermione beckoned for her to join them in the lake. All the girls clad in their underwear. Something Octavia was definitely not comfortable with.

Octavia wasn't a shy girl by nature. She wasn't shy of her body. In the past, at least. But since she had acquired a long thick scar that ran across her back, she refused to participate. The scar she had gotten in the first year of the apocalypse. From a shred of metal, hanging off a car door.

From her own stupidity.

* * *

 _Octavia sighed as she followed a few members of the group through the street quietly, Nyle right in front of her. Her narrowed eyes on his back as they walked. She hadn't really wished to come along on their run, much preferring to stay with her dad. Her dad hadn't really been himself lately. Physically, he was fine. But emotionally and mentally, not so much._

 _Sometimes he would call her 'Hermione' without realising it. Something he had never done before. It worried her. She could see that he wasn't coping well, and she knew that he only stuck around to be with her. And it broke her heart._

 _So she insisted that she stayed back at camp. But Nyle wouldn't let it go. He pestered her relentlessly through the morning, irritating the hell out of her. A part of her wondered if he wanted her to come on the run because of what happened the last time. They had a quickie while trapped in a pub for a few hours. It was her first run with the group, and it hadn't gone so well. A herd separated them, Nyle and Octavia hiding out in a pub while they waited for the herd to pass. They lost two members of the group that day. So Octavia was in that 'we-could-die-any-minute' state of mind, throwing herself at him._

 _And he took her, all too willingly._

 _So she wondered if he was so persistent for her to come along again, for that very reason. He was hoping to get lucky again. Only a week later._

 _"_ _Stop," Christopher – the man in charge – whispered, holding his hand up to halt the others. "Do you hear that?"_

 _Everybody nodded, their faces scrunched up in concentration as they tried to decipher the noise. A quiet rumbling of sorts. Getting louder slowly. Indicating that whatever it was, was getting closer to them._

 _Octavia slipped her knife from her boot slowly, her eyes scanning around the area. She was frightened._

 _Rattling noises caught the attention of the small group, causing them to look around frantically. Stopping and staring as they spotted the source of the second noise. The windows of the parallel buildings … rattling. Shaking in their frames._

 _"_ _What … What is that?" Linda whispered, stepping forward slightly, her head tilted as she looked ahead._

 _Octavia craned her neck, peeking by Nyle to follow Linda's gaze._

 _"_ _Oh my god," Linda whispered, backing up slowly._

 _"_ _Move!" Christopher shouted, his wide eyes on what was approaching them._

 _A herd. But not of walkers. Horses._ _ **A lot**_ _of horses. Wild, probably. Or at least they were wild now._

 _"_ _Stampede!" Christopher shouted as the flock of sprinting horses bounded down the street toward them at an alarming speed._

 _Momentarily frozen in place, Octavia gaped at the magnificence of the wild animals headed toward them. Not realising that the group had scattered in pursuit of safety._

 _"Octavia!" Nyle's voice shouted, pulling her out of her daze. "Get out of the way!"_

 _Octavia spotted Nyle atop a truck that lay on its side ahead of her. She wouldn't make it, the stampede of horses was too close. She turned and ran to her left, dropping and rolling under a wrecked car swiftly, only just missing the first few horses of the herd._

 _Relief swelled inside of her as she lay on her belly, watching the horse hooves swarm past her at an incredible speed, listening to the sounds of their gallops._

 _She frowned. Ouch. What was that?_

 _Her back ... It felt wet. Pain tingling across it in one straight line. Diagonal. Long. Very long. Ouch. The pain heightened. Increased. Her vision blurred just as pain shot through her causing her to cry out._

 _Her name. Someone said her name. No more galloping. Just people yelling. Her name._

 _Something gripped onto her leg. But before she could see what it was, darkness took her._

* * *

Octavia eyed her bare feet, absentmindedly wiggling her toes. There was nothing of interest about her feet, she just didn't want to watch the group play in the water anymore. And she could feel Malfoy's eyes on her face. So she kept her own eyes on her wiggling toes. Wishing she could bathe and clean her body. But she refused to go in the water in her underwear. Her only other option was to go in fully clothed, but it kind of defeated the purpose. Bathing in jeans and a long-sleeved black top. That would just be silly. She didn't have anything else to wear into the water. The members of the group only really had the clothes that they wore day after day. There wasn't much room for anything else.

A part of her was glad in that moment that Nyle wasn't with her. He never understood her embarrassment of her horrid scar. He always tried to pressure her into just dealing with it. That was one of the things about Nyle that she couldn't cope with. He was never very good at handling her insecurities. Just brushing them off instead. Trivializing them.

* * *

 _"_ _I don't want to!" Octavia snapped at the handsome man before her._

 _"_ _You'd rather just run around, stinking out the camp?" Nyle scoffed at her, raising his eyebrows._

 _"_ _I'll use baby wipes," Octavia shrugged._

 _"_ _There aren't any left." Nyle sighed. "You need to wash. Properly wash. You're covered in dirt, and you smell."_

 _"_ _We all do!" Octavia bit at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks._

 _"_ _Not anymore," Nyle sighed, evidently losing his patience with her. "Everyone's in the river, washing themselves. Like we should be doing."_

 _"_ _Go!" Octavia snapped. "I'm not stopping you. I just don't want to join."_

 _"_ _Is this about the scar?" Nyle asked sternly, eyeing her blushing face._

 _"_ _So what if it is?" She hissed at him._

 _"_ _Jesus, Octavia." Nyle shook his head. "Nobody cares about your stupid scar. Just get in the water."_

 _"_ _I care!" Octavia shouted at him. "I fucking care!"_

 _"_ _You're being ridiculous." Nyle rolled his eyes._

 _"_ _I don't want to go in the water!" Octavia shouted._

 _"_ _Then leave your dress on," Nyle shrugged. "That will hide your scar, and you can clean yourself underneath it."_

 _Octavia frowned as she realised his suggestion wasn't half bad. Although her dress would be wet for the remainder of the day, so she'd probably catch a cold. But it was better than being stinky, right?_

 _"_ _Fine." She frowned, stomping toward the river side._

 _"_ _Octavia." Nyle sighed as he followed her. "You really need to get over it, you know. It's just a scar, and nobody cares. We all have scars. It comes with the territory."_

 _"_ _I don't care if everyone has scars or not, Nyle." Octavia huffed as she slipped off her boots. "I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable, ok?"_

 _Nyle didn't respond, so she turned to look at him. He was staring at her. Not like he usually did though. He was staring at her with … tedium? As though he was bored … of her._

 _She frowned as he sighed and made his way toward the water, not sparing a backwards glance at her as he did._

* * *

Inhaling slightly, Octavia felt envy flourish inside of her. Malfoy remained seated beside her, fully clothed. But he had bathed. She could smell the freshness from him. The scent of the body wash he had used. His clothes smelled fresh too, she mused. For there wasn't an ounce of dirt or sweat in his aroma. He just smelled … clean. While she smelled like absolute filth. She scowled.

It wasn't fair.

Absentmindedly Octavia's fingers brushed over her chest, tracing the scratches he left on her. They were fading now. Almost healed. Like the fingertip bruises on her neck. They didn't hurt. But she felt them there. Sometimes she'd catch him staring at the markings he left on her body in his fit of rage. His grey eyes cold. Always cold. It was at those times she would find canned peaches in her bag. Only an hour or so later. He never outright gave her treats now. He only put them in her bag while she slept in the Jeep.

It angered her more. The fact that he thought he could make up for hurting her by putting food in her bag. It infuriated her. Hating him the most at those times.

"Why aren't you washing?" His cool voice penetrated her thoughts, startling her.

They hadn't spoken to one another in a week. She was caught off guard.

She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. Staring at him with the hatred she felt shining in her eyes. He didn't falter. He only stared back.

She was torn between ignoring him and responding. But she was frightened of him. So she daren't disrespect him so obviously.

"I don't want to go in the water in my underwear," Octavia shrugged, turning to face the lake again.

Malfoy nodded slightly as he observed her, but she didn't notice. Her eyes remained on her sister and the girls splashing each other and laughing merrily. She didn't know that he understood why. That he used to watch her bathe in the early mornings back at camp, all those weeks ago. That he saw the scar that ran diagonally down her back. From the base of her shoulder blade straight across to her right back dimple.

Octavia's eyes flickered to Malfoy as he stood, stepping to stand in front of her, her eyes watching him as he moved. She swallowed audibly as she gazed up at him, his cold grey eyes fixed on her face.

Her eyes widened as he grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, dishevelling his blonde hair slightly in the process. His blonde hair brushed against his brow, intensifying his molten grey eyes as he looked down at her. A powerful blush spread over her face swiftly as she eyed his bare torso in front of her. Scanning over the lines that defined his muscles, drinking in his pecs, lingering over the 'V' that was half shielded by his trousers. His muscular arms framing his body. She tingled. In the last place she wanted to tingle for Malfoy.

Smirking, he looked down at her awe-struck expression. Noticing that she pressed her legs together as she drank him in. Wiping the smirk from his face, he recovered his cool composure. He cleared his throat slightly, regaining her attention. Her hazel eyes trapped in his cold stare, his cock twitching in response. But she didn't notice. She never did.

"Wear this," he ordered, offering her his black t-shirt.

Thinning her lips, Octavia snatched the material from his hand, struggling to keep her eyes away from his sculpted body. She was sure he was made from marble.

"Turn around," she frowned at him, annoyed that he remained standing before her, his eyes latched onto her face.

He raised his chin slowly, his eyes fixed on her face as she stood. He didn't oblige her demand. Instead, he grabbed a towel from a nearby boulder, holding it out in front of her, both hands expanding the material. Shielding her from the eyes of the rest of the group.

She sighed as she pulled off her top and shimmied out of her jeans, glancing up at Malfoy frequently to ensure he wasn't peeking at her body. He wasn't. His face was turned to the side, his eyes on the vehicles on the road through the bushes.

Once she had changed, she cleared her throat, her hands pulling at the soft black material nervously as he dropped the towel.

"Thanks," she muttered, unnerved as his eyes scanned her appearance, lingering on her dishevelled curls.

He merely nodded once in response before she took off toward the lake to join the girls, passing a naked and drenched Blaise Zabini on the way.

She didn't even sneak a peek at him. Her eyes were fixed on the water. Until she turned her head back to glance at Malfoy, who stood by the boulder, hands in his pockets, watching her go.

Whipping her head back around toward the lake, she continued walking.

* * *

Blaise grabbed his trousers from the ground, pulling them on swiftly, his eyes on Draco. He smirked as his friend watched the muggle jump into the water.

"Does it get you all hot and bothered that she's wearing your shirt?" Blaise grinned, using a towel to dry his muscular torso.

Draco smirked, his eyes still on the muggle girl laughing in the lake.

"What is it that you want from her exactly?" Blaise asked before pulling his t-shirt on.

"What is it that you want from _your_ mudblood?" Draco quirked an eyebrow at his friend.

"I see," Blaise nodded, understanding instantly. _Everything._

Blaise watched as Draco knelt by the supply bag, pulling out something small and silver, clasping it in his hand before Blaise could get a good look at it. His eyes followed his blonde-haired comrade as he stuffed the silver object into the muggle's bag discreetly.

"What was that?" Blaise asked curiously as he sat on the ground, Draco moving to sit next to him.

"A necklace." Draco clipped, his eyes swiftly scanning the lake for the muggle, locating her almost instantly.

"The locket?" Blaise frowned.

"No." Draco clipped, his fists clenching somewhat.

"Hm," Blaise hummed, watching Hermione get dunked by her sister. He supressed a smile.

"How do you plan on progressing with Granger?" Draco asked, his cold stare on a giggling Octavia. Fixed on the wet curls stuck to the sides of her face.

"Ah," Blaise grinned widely. "I have my ways."

"A trade." Draco nodded once, well aware of Blaise's 'ways'.

"Yes." Blaise grinned wickedly. "Soon."

"Why bother?" Draco frowned. "You know you cannot have her in the long run."

"The mission." Blaise nodded, his grin fading instantly. "I am aware of our plans."

"Yet you torture yourself." Draco frowned. "Knowing it is temporary."

"You do not understand." Blaise sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "You are reassured by the fact that your unity with the mudblood doesn't interfere with the objectives in place. In fact, it agrees with the objectives. So you do not have to choose between never tasting the woman you crave, and tasting her briefly."

"I see." Draco thinned his lips.

He understood. The Vipers knew that once the Medallion was found, they would begin their next phase of the mission. Repopulation. And it would only occur with one person of magical blood paired with one muggle. It was the only way to ensure that all offspring was magical. Thereby providing the new society with power and strength. Some muggles would be permitted to pair with one another, as the muggles outnumbered the magical folk.

At present, there was only eighteen wizards and witches in the group, whereas the number of muggles sat at twenty-one. So there would only be eighteen arranged marriages. The remaining muggles could do whatever they wanted, really. Unite with one another, or not.

But the marriages would be arranged for every single magical person in the group. The Vipers were no exception to their own rule. Blaise knew this. Therefore he knew that in the long run, he would not be able to unite with Hermione Granger. It was temporary. And when the time came, he would have to remain faithful to his muggle wife. The charms used in the ceremony would ensure this. He tried not to think about it. He tried to live each day as it came. Not thinking about what would be required of him once they found the Medallion.

At least Draco didn't have to give up the girl he loved. For the girl he loved was a muggle. He could wed her, setting the perfect example for the rest of the group, and be happy. And really, she would have no choice in the matter. They would exile anyone who refused to participate. Muggle or magical.

But Blaise would have to wed a woman he cared naught for. He sighed. It was expected of him in the old world, as well as the new world. It seemed he could not escape arranged marriages in either.

* * *

Blaise and Hermione sprawled out over one another, sleeping soundly in the backseat. Octavia snored lightly in the passenger seat, curled up into the foetal position, facing Draco in the driver's seat. A little drool trickling out of her parted lips.

Draco smirked as he glanced at her, eyeing the trail of saliva, before returning his eyes to the road as he drove. Keeping his eyes on the road before him, his finger reached out slowly, stopping when they touched what he sought. A loose curl.

Gently touching the curl, he fingered it lightly, glancing at her sleeping form occasionally. His hand stilled as she murmured and squirmed in the seat, brushing her face against his hand. Like a cat would do. His cold grey eyes fixed on the road, showing nothing. But his heart fluttered.

So he drove like that. One hand on the steering wheel, cold eyes on the road. But his free hand caressing her face softly. His fingertips brushing against her smooth skin. Not stopping his ministrations for hours.

Only reluctantly pulling his hand away when she began to rouse. Wiping her drool away with his index finger as he did so.

* * *

Groggily, Octavia pulled her body from the linoleum floor beneath her, stretching her arms above her head as she stood. She yawned as she looked around the area, covered in empty boxes and rows of now-empty shelves. Members of her group sleeping soundly on the ground and tables.

They were a mere day's drive away from Fort Williams now, but they had stopped over in another town due to the weather. Thunder booming in the sky, the walls and roof of the pharmacy they resided in shielding the group from the storm outside.

Unfortunately the storm was taking a considerable amount of time to pass by, leaving them trapped in the small pharmacy all day. It was boring, to say the least. Most people slept, resting and refuelling themselves before the long drive ahead of them tomorrow. Knowing they wouldn't be stopping for anything. But Octavia was sick of sleeping. She felt that it was all they did while they travelled on the road. At least _she_ did. For being a passenger in the Jeep didn't offer much choice. It was either reminisce about the dead, or sleep and dream of the dead.

Octavia knew, however, that the Vipers, Guards and Runners were in dire need of rest. They were always driving, guarding, killing walkers and scavenging. So she could hardly complain about being locked in the confined space for a day while the slept. Well, most of them.

Two Guards stood, fully alert, by the front entrance of the pharmacy, locked and loaded. While Ginny and Pansy guarded the back entrance to the store, out of sight from the rest of the group, shielded by the rows of shelves through the room. Octavia felt a little bad for the girls, knowing they had been sleeping only an hour here or there during the past week.

Octavia sighed as she grabbed her bag from the ground, nudging a sitting Hermione with her foot as she swung the bag over her shoulder.

"What?" Hermione frowned, closing the large ancient ruins book in her lap as she looked up at her sister.

"Come on," Octavia whispered, inclining her head toward the rear of the shop.

Hermione placed the book on the ground before standing. Quietly, the twins weaved their way through the shelves, careful not to wake the resting group as they went.

Octavia smiled at Ginny as they reached the back of the store, before plopping herself on the ground across from the on-duty girls.

"Miss us already?" Pansy grinned, laying on her back by the door.

"Just can't stay away," Octavia winked, zipping open her bag.

Octavia rummaged through her bag for a moment before pulling out what she was searching for.

"Here," Octavia said as she tossed a can at Ginny who caught it effortlessly.

"What's that?" Pansy frowned, eyeing the silver and blue can in the red-head's hand.

"Energy drink." Octavia smiled, zipping up her bag.

"Where'd you get a Red Bull?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows at her sister.

"Around." Octavia shrugged.

In actuality, Octavia had found the energy drink in her bag that morning. But the girls didn't need to know about that. They would only ask questions. Questions that Octavia didn't really know the answers to. Other than the fact that she was sure Malfoy was either trying to apologise for harming her a week ago. Or he was trying to bait her into trading with him. She scoffed internally. Like _that_ would ever happen.

"Thanks," Ginny grinned, tossing the drink to Pansy who, given the bags under her brown eyes, needed it a lot more than the red-head.

"It's quiet," Hermione said, staring out of the window by the door.

"Everyone's sleeping." Octavia shrugged.

"No," Hermione smirked, facing the window. "Out there. It's quiet. No walkers."

"Good." Octavia nodded, not sure what her sister was getting at. Or why she was stating the obvious.

"That's a cinema." Hermione said as she pointed out of the window.

Frowning at her sister's odd behaviour, Octavia stood to follow her sister's gaze. Across the wide alleyway was indeed a cinema. Well, the back entrance anyway. And Hermione was correct in her assessment of there being no walkers in the alleyway between the pharmacy and the cinema.

* * *

Draco rubbed his hands over his face as he awoke, pulling himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. He wasn't pleased.

His muggle was nowhere in sight, only the Ancient Ruins book lay on the ground ahead of him. He wasn't concerned. For Draco knew that the muggle had gone to be in the company of her friends, but he wasn't pleased about it. He would much rather her stay within his vision. For her own safety as well as his own sanity.

It did things to him when she wasn't near. He felt hollow. Like he always felt before he first saw her. Of course he wasn't aware of the empty feeling prior to encountering the muggle girl. But now it burned inside of him fiercely whenever she wasn't near.

He scowled. She made him weak, he knew this. A part of him hated her for it. The other part loved her all the more for it.

But when she wore that necklace he placed in her bag, he felt … _affection_.

* * *

Octavia shuffled her feet nervously as she stood with the girls at the back of the pharmacy. She pleaded with the girls to listen to her. First the first time in her life, Octavia was the voice of reason. Unfortunately for Octavia, the girls had other plans in mind as the group had remained in a deep slumber and the storm had lessened.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Octavia glanced between the determined witches.

"Almost everyone is asleep," Pansy shrugged. "We'll be back before anyone notices."

"You can stay and keep watch," Ginny suggested, facing the window, looking out. "There aren't any walkers, and the cinema is right there. We'll be in and out in a matter of minutes."

"Hermione," Octavia turned her pleading eyes to her sister. "You can't be ok with this."

Hermione looked at her sister thoughtfully before turning her gaze to the window, eyeing the back entrance of the building across the wide path. The cinema. No walkers in sight. But the same could not be said for the cinema. Who knows how many walkers could be inside of the recreational building a few yards away from them. Octavia couldn't believe the girls and their nonsensical plan. It could very well be a suicide mission. And for what? Some soft drinks, chocolate and popcorn? It was outrageous, and she wanted no part in it.

"If Malfoy finds out –" Octavia began, attempting to make her sister understand, before she was cut off.

"He won't." Ginny interrupted, turning to face Octavia. "He's asleep. Nobody will notice."

"What if he wakes up? What if someone comes down this way?" Octavia pleaded, her hands wringing together nervously.

"We're the only ones awake, other than the Guards posted at the front entrance." Pansy shrugged. "You can stay here if you're too scared."

"I'm not scared!" Octavia hissed. "But if the Vipers find out we've gone outside …"

Octavia didn't finish her sentence. She didn't know what to say. What if they did find out? What would the consequences be? Surely her punishment would be the worst. She might be banished. Malfoy already treated her the worst of anyone in the group. He would exile her, surely. So maybe she was a little frightened. Not of venturing outside the safety of the pharmacy. Not of the walkers they could encounter in the cinema. But of Malfoy's reaction if they were caught.

Yes. Octavia was scared. Of Malfoy.

"You stay here," Hermione sighed, facing the window. "We'll go."

"You can't be serious!" Octavia gasped. "You of all people have to know that this is the worst idea in the history of the world!"

"It's not so bad." Hermione turned to face her sister, looking hesitant. "Everyone's asleep. We'll be quick."

"If you get caught –" Octavia began.

"We won't." Pansy clipped, rather annoyed. "Just stay here and guard the back door while we're gone. That's all you have to do."

"I don't want any part of this." Octavia scowled, folding her arms over her chest.

"Tough shit!" Ginny snapped at her. "Guard the door while we're gone. That's all we're asking."

"Fine." Octavia huffed. "But if we get caught, I'm not taking any of the blame."

"Deal." Pansy smirked, evidently pleased at their small victory.

Octavia thinned her lips as Ginny turned the handle of the door slowly, not making a sound as she did. Hermione waved her wand, whispering a string of spells as she did. Taking the wards down, Octavia assumed, adding to her already rampant anxiety. Biting her lip, she watched as the girls crept out of the back door silently, Octavia closing the door behind them.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she walked to the window, watching the three stupid girls run across the pathway, weaving between abandoned cars and walker carcases. She sighed as she lost sight of them, the girls disappearing through the cinema back entrance.

Octavia had a really bad feeling about this.

* * *

Blaise reclined against the wall next to Draco, rubbing his hands over his tired face. They had awoken almost an hour ago, the blonde Viper scowling the entire time.

Blaise knew that Draco was in a foul mood due to the absence of the muggle, much like Blaise over the absence of her sister. The Granger girls had obviously chosen to be in the company of their Runner friends on guard at the back of the store. But neither Viper was entirely happy about it.

Groaning, Blaise ran his fingers through his thick black hair. Hermione Granger was getting under his skin more and more with each passing day. He hated it. A few weeks ago, he would not have cared if he didn't see her for days on end. Yes, he would think about her and wonder what she was doing at those times. But the effect wasn't what it was now. He was growing accustomed to being in her company constantly. So when he awoke without her around him, he couldn't help but feel agitated.

Draco, however, appeared downright distressed. Angry and concerned. On edge. His combat boot tapping relentlessly against the tacky linoleum floor. His fist clenched, resting against his thinned lips. His cold grey eyes fixed on the ancient ruins book that lay on the ground a few yards away from them. The very spot the Granger girls had been when the Vipers had fallen asleep.

"Fuck this." Blaise grumbled as he abruptly stood, craning his neck. "Granger needs to be working on the ruins."

Draco nodded once, standing instantly. Both men entirely aware that they were each just grateful for an excuse to bring the Grangers back into the area, within eyesight.

They headed off toward the rear entrance of the building, both men relaxing slightly with each step toward the area. Toward the Grangers.

* * *

Octavia stood facing out of the dirty window, her worried eyes fixed on the building ahead. Her hand clutching the oval pendant of the necklace around her neck. The necklace she had found in her bag that morning. Not the locket she longed for. The locket she had so carelessly lost. But a new necklace.

White gold, she assumed. A classical turquoise stone as the pendant. It was elegant and downright beautiful. But it wasn't the locket.

She wore it anyway. It was exquisite. But mainly, she wore it because of what it meant. Or what she assumed it meant. That Malfoy had noticed she lost the locket she adored. The locket that had meant so much to her. And he had given her a new necklace to alleviate her distress. It worked in a way. She merely transferred the significance from the locket to her new necklace. Along with bitterness.

She didn't associate the necklace with Malfoy. She associated it with her own stupidity and carelessness. And Nyle. The man who she had done wrong by, time and time again.

Clutching it in her hand, her anxious eyes gazing out of the dusty window.

Octavia's eyes widened as the doors to the cinema burst open, the three panicked girls stumbling out. A whimper escaped her lips as she noticed the girls were spattered in blood, Hermione limping. But what made her want to scream was what followed them out of the doors … Walkers.

* * *

A/N: There's a poll on my profile about my self-published work, if you're interested.


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